


Pendulum

by Bowl_of_Face



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-30 15:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14499816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowl_of_Face/pseuds/Bowl_of_Face
Summary: Post War, Hermione has returned for her final year at Hogwarts. After an odd request opens the Room of Requirement, Hermione finds herself back in the year 1944 in Tom Riddle's final year of school.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Hermione shook her wrist out, sighing loudly. She skimmed over her five feet of scroll on the morality of using the Veritaserum potion on an unwilling participate. She nodded slightly as her eyes roved over it. Overall it seemed okay. There was still something that seemed missing.

“Still at it, Granger?” a voice called softly. Hermione twisted in her chair. Sleek white-blonde hair, a slender frame, and a forced nonchalant stance. Malfoy.

“Just finishing up.” Hermione replied tartly. She was still unaccustomed to Malfoy treating her like anything other than a worm. The demure Malfoy was one she didn’t quite know how to contend with. Hermione had been given the choice to return for her seventh year at Hogwarts, Malfoy had not. She still could not tell how he felt about the opportunity. Here he was speaking to her, and not down to her, so he must have felt some sort of repentance. Hermione fiddled with her quill.

“Have you finished yours, yet?” she asked, attempting to soften her tone. He leaned against a bookcase, hands jammed far into his pockets.  
“I still have a bit left.” He admitted.

“I could review it for you? You could review mine as well. I could use another pair of eyes on this one section.” Hermione pointed near the bottom of her long scroll. He met her eyes for a moment, assessing. They were not the only two that had returned for their final year, but were the only ones that happened to be taking Potions at a N.E.W.T level.

“Alright.” Malfoy obliged, moving to sit across from her. He handed her his rolled up scroll. Hermione began scribbling notes along his parchment in red quill, nose nearly touching the paper. Neither spoke for a few long minutes.

“You got the date of the Silvius case wrong. It was 1984, not 83. But once you correct that, your spelling and fill out the last section, I think that Slughorn will be very pleased.” Hermione handed his roll back.

“I think if you added a bit about the risks of tainted Veritaserum, that would balance out this section.” Malfoy said, handing back her essay. Hermione slapped her forehead lightly.

“Yes! Thank you. That is exactly what I was missing.” Hermione wasted no time, flipping the large tome next to her to the section on failure cases and began writing immediately.

She had expected Malfoy to leave, but he stayed, working silently on his own essay, the only sound being the scratching of the quills against the thick parchment.

_What a wonder._ She thought. _I’m sitting here in the Hogwarts Library with Draco Malfoy._ If she could go back in time and tell her eleven year old self that she’d be finishing up a homework assignment with that horrible blond boy after they had been on different sides of a war…. Well it was honestly too surreal.

Hermione shook out her wrist once again, eyes gliding over the new work. Much better. Her arguments were sound and thoughtful. Fully exploring both sides. Slughorn would be pleased, she knew. They were to brew it this year for their final N.E.W.T level potion, and before that it was important to consider all the moral ramifications.

“Yes, thank you, Malfoy. This is much better.” She smiled at him and he frowned a little.

“Don’t get used to me helping you, Granger.” he replied. His words were hard, but his tone was soft. Hermione stared at him thoughtfully, chewing on her lip. All of his friends were gone. Not a single one had come back to finish their final year. And being a former Death Eater was not the point of pride as it had been several years ago. Could it be that the once great and prideful Malfoy was lonely? Hermione felt a sudden stab of pity for the boy.

“Would you like get dinner together in the Great Hall, Malfoy?” She asked, regretting the words as they left her mouth. It would be better to just not get involved at all. Malfoy didn’t bother to restrain his surprised expression.

“It’s a little late, so your friends are probably already finished. I would love to discuss our upcoming Potions work anyway.” Hermione continued. Malfoy continued to stare, his mouth slightly open in confusion.  
_Well at least I’m trying._ Hermione thought crossly, gripping her quill.  
“Yeah alright.” He replied finally.

Thus began an uneasy alliance between the Gryffindor and Slytherin. Often they would sit together, arguing amicably about different school subjects, carefully maneuvering their discussion around current events. Some things were better off not spoken about.

At first there were whispers, it was rare to see people from different houses eating together, but two people that had fought on opposite sides of a war? Perhaps due to Hermione’s celebrity or Malfoy’s notoriety, the whispers died down. Some of the other seventh years even began to sit with the pair on occasion.

“What’s this?” Malfoy asked one breakfast as a heavy letter dropped on his head.  
“Oh that’s Pig!” Hermione called excitedly as a tiny owl buzzed around their head for a moment before landing on the table. She fed him some toast, which he gobbled down quickly before setting off again. Malfoy handed her the letter.

“From Weasley, I presume?” He asked, his voice strained a little. Perhaps it hurt to be reminded of those that fought against him in the war? Hermione wondered.

“Yes, it seems so.” She ripped open the letter with relish and began reading quickly, a smile plastered on her face.

“Surprised you and Weasel haven’t already tied the knot.” Malfoy mumbled, stabbing a sausage with his fork. “I bet he can’t wait to have you shooting out enough red headed babies to fill a whole Hogwarts classroom.” Hermione glanced up from the letter, a sour expression on her own face.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Hermione gritted out. Malfoy looked away, a clear struggle on his face between being appropriately abashed and overly prideful.

“Merlin, calm down, Granger. It was a joke.” He sniffed. She slammed the letter down on the table and stood up. Several people glanced over, startled by the early disruption.

“You’re horrible.” was all she could muster, tears filling her eyes as fled the Great Hall, leaving her things as she hastily exited. Malfoy watched her her leave, confusion filling him. He glanced down at the crumpled letter. He grabbed it quickly, having debated whether or not to read it for only a moment.

“Merlin…” he murmured. He had put his foot straight into his mouth. Ronald Weasley had met someone else.

\----

Hermione wandered the halls aimlessly, her sleeves soaked from her attempts to wipe away her tears. How long ago was it that Ron had asked for her hand? Four? Five months ago? She hadn’t even said no! Just that the timing hadn’t been right. After she took her N.E.W.Ts, and got a job. It was just too soon for them. He had just started his auror training…. Hermione’s head was going in circles. But now he had met someone. Love at first sight. As if that’s a real thing. Hermione reached into her robes to read the note again, but groaned when she realized she had left it down stairs. No doubt Malfoy had read it by now. His insults at the ready for the next time he saw her.

Hermione paced the floor. Questions pounding through her head. Did Harry know? Had he and Ginny kept this from her or was it really as whirlwind as Ron had said in his letter? He had only gone on his first solo Auror mission two weeks ago! Had it happened then?  
_If only I could go back._ Hermione thought sadly. _If I could go back, I’d say yes. _I need Time.__  That thought circled repeatedly as Hermione paced and let herself wallow. She wiped at her face again, her soaked sleeves only irritating her cheeks.

“Oh!” a surprised yelp left her mouth as Hermione suddenly realized she was pacing in front of a door. The Room of Requirement. “I didn’t even realize…” Hermione murmured, eyeing the door cautiously. She had been asking for more time, she realized. Curious, Hermione decided to peek inside. How had it decided to answer her request?

An audible gasp left her lips as Hermione was greeted with a dark cavernous room full of Time Turners. The golden charms twinkled in the the odd blue light from torches stuck in sconces. Hermione eyed the shelves of Time Turners cautiously. There were less here than she had seen in the Department of Mysteries, but more than there should be. As far as Hermione knew, Time Turners were highly regulated pieces of equipment. How had the room produced them?

“Interesting way to help, but not quite right.” Hermione told the room, gently fingering one of the Time Turners. The most she could do with one of these was go back far enough to punch herself in the face, take the letter, and burn it before it could be read. As if that would solve anything.

This particular Time Turner was odd looking, though. Rather than gold, it was a cold silver on a delicate black chain. Hermione pulled it down to examine. The runes along the sides weren’t immediately decipherable. Right in the middle there was hole that the sand had to pour around. 

“Curious…” Hermione held it up to her face to examine it, careful to keep it from twisting in her hand. She had never seen one like this before. Carefully, she placed it back on the shelf. 

“I’ll have to read up on this room a bit more if I can.” Hermione told herself. As far as she knew, it couldn’t create matter. Just move it around. Which did not explain where these Time Turners had come from.

The room was much larger than it had appeared in their fifth year, extending far back, beyond what she could see. The Time Turners only occupied the frontmost area of the room. Glancing up, Hermione noticed that the ceiling was also high enough to be shrouded in darkness.

“Lumos” Hermione whispered, her wand tip suddenly bright. It didn’t seem to help much, though. The darkness held an almost oppressive quality, broken only by the blue flame torches scattered along the walls. Although she knew better, Hermione felt her feet moving her further into the room. She was clever and cautious. It would be fine. And she needed something to distract her at the moment anyway. After a while she glanced back, noticing that the shimmering light of the Time Turners was only a speck now. The room had grown colder, the air more still. In the distance she saw something.

A door, she realized, coming closer. It wasn’t anything fancy or foreboding. Just a plain looking wooden door, with no indication on it of where it led.

“There are hundreds…” Hermione said out loud, her words sounding muffled on the still air. Hundreds of doors lined the wide hallway now. All looked the same with no discernable differences. She wandered back a ways, hoping to find a rune or anything that would tell her what these doors meant or where they led. Hermione patted her robes, looking to find a loose quill and parchment to take notes, but to no avail.

_I left my bag with Malfoy._ She realized with a curse. She waved her wand around, trying a few spells. The Revealing Charm revealed nothing. Neither did Detect Magic. Hermione tapped her wand against her lips thoughtfully. She could open one door. She wouldn’t step through. Just open it. It seemed likely that these doors led to elsewhere in the castle. A sort of short cut.  
Hermione cautiously placed her hand on a handle. It didn’t burn or hurt her, but felt as average as it looked. She twisted and pulled the door open with ease. Relief filled her as she realized she had been correct. Hermione was staring out at the entrance to the Great Hall. The door was just a short cut.

  
Perhaps Malfoy was still there, or he had left her things. It would be easier to step through than go all the way back down. Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. However tempting, it was unwise to step through a mysterious door, even if the result seemed familiar. Before she could pull back, Hermione felt a pair of hands firmly press into her back and push her through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

Hermione stumbled forward, landing hard on her knees. She came to her senses quickly, turning around. But there was no person. Or door. Just a stone wall covered in an old threadbare tapestry. Unease settled in the pit of Hermione’s stomach as she stood.

Putting away her wand, Hermione took a minute to examining her knees. Groaning, she realized she was going to have a pair of matching bruises.

 _Just my luck. Might as well get my bag while I’m here,_ Hermione thought bitterly, walking into the Great Hall. She couldn’t decide if she wanted Malfoy to be there still or not. On one hand, he would mock her relentlessly, on the other, Hermione didn’t want to be alone with herself anymore. It made it too easy to think.

Hermione’s walk slowed and then stopped. Her mouth opened into a perfect O in surprise. The Great Hall was empty. It was never empty. There was always some students lingering. Either studying or eating, or at times, both. It was a bizarre sight to see it so cavernous and vacant. Not even the tables were set down. Hermione glanced up at the ceiling. When she had left Malfoy, it had been a clear sunny day. Now the clouds hung heavy and low, as if it would take an act of god to move them.

“This isn’t right…” Hermione said with an edge of panic. She was growing more sure by the moment that the dread she felt was justified.

“Excuse me?” A polite voice called from behind her. Hermione whipped around, her hand grasping at her robes, feeling for her wand.

“No.” The color drained from Hermione’s face. This couldn’t be. This was impossible. Dumbledore watched her from behind a pair of moon shaped glasses. His face, curtained by long auburn hair, showed an expression of concern.

“Professor Dumbledore?” She asked, the name sounding strange on her tongue. It had been so long since she had spoken it.

“Yes. And who might you be?” He asked, a frown curving his lips. He looked so young, Hermione realized. What was going on? Hermione’s vision narrowed for a moment and she swayed on her feet. No. She must collect herself.

“I’m… my name is Hermione Granger.” she replied, shaking her head, trying to shake away the shock threatened to consume her brain.

“Ms. Granger. I do not mean to be rude, but who are you?” Dumbledore seemed to be trying to decide if she was a threat or not. Hermione noticed that he hid his hands in his sleeves, no doubt ready to grab his wand.  
“Please let me explain Professor. Well… as well as I can at least.” Hermione asked, meeting Dumbledore’s pale blue eyes.

“Yes of course, Ms. Granger. Let’s discuss this in my office.” he replied after a moment.

Hermione began the well memorized trek to the Headmaster’s Office.

“Ms. Granger?”

“Yes?” Hermione paused, confused by the delay.

“My office is this way.” Hermione stared at his outstretched arm, unsure of what this meant. By the time the two had reached the Transfiguration Office, she had a pretty good idea. Dumbledore motioned to a chair and Hermione plunked down gratefully. Her knees had barely been willing to support her.

“Tea, Ms. Granger?” Dumbledore asked, waving his wand. Hermione noted dimly that it wasn’t the Elder Wand, further confirming her suspicions.

“Oh yes… please.” she replied. Looking around, it seemed as if all the trinkets that she memorized in the Headmaster’s Office had instead been crammed into the smaller space. Fawkes snoozed in the corner, his beak tucked under a wing. Papers and books covered every inch of the desk, one book floating slightly above the desk.

A warm cup of tea plopped into her hands. Lemon, Hermione noted after taking a polite sip.

“Now, I feel as if you have a story, Ms. Granger.” Dumbledore steepled his fingers, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Yes.” Hermione hesitated. What would happen if she told Dumbledore? Is it possible that she would irrevocably change the future? “Actually, Professor, is it alright if I ask a question first?”

“Go right ahead.”

“What year is it?” She asked hesitantly. Dumbledore did not answer immediately, but met her eyes, trying to gauge something that Hermione did not know.

“It is August 26, 1944.”

It was true then. Hermione felt her heart slowly sink to the bottom of her stomach. This was bad. Extremely undeniably terrible. She put her head in her hands.

“Please tell me what happened, if you can. I would like to help.”

Hermione nodded and told only about the Room of Requirement. The Time Turners, the oddly still air, the endless rows of doors. She tried to only provide only as many details as she had to, not wanting anything that could change the future to slip into the conversation.

“Fascinating.” Dumbledore said afterwards, leaning back in his chair. Hermione looked down into the dregs of her tea. She was sure it was fascinating if you weren’t the one it was happening to.  
“Have you tried opening the Room again, Ms. Granger? It may be as simple as that. I believe I have only come across this Room once before. Hogwarts certainly keeps us on our toes, doesn’t it?” Dumbledore had a curious twinkle in his eye, that Hermione couldn’t match. She felt as if her world was unravelling.

“I haven’t.” she replied. “I came out and then met you.”

“Forgive me for any earlier rudeness, Ms. Granger. It is a week before school starts, so it is unusual to see a student. Especially one dressed in Gryffindor robes that I do not know.” Hermione glanced down at her tie, recalling in that moment that he was the Head of Gryffindor.

“I understand, Professor. But what should I do?”

“Let’s go see if we can get the room open again, shall we?”

\---- 

They took turns, concentrating, examining, wishing, hoping, and a million other things to no avail. Hermione leaned against the wall allowing self pity to wash over her. This was hands down the worst day of her life. And certainly the longest. Spanning fifty years.

“It seems, Ms. Granger, that your Room of Requirement does not wish to open.” Dumbledore said, touching the wall thoughtfully.

“I don’t understand we used it regularly--” Hermione stopped herself before revealing any more about the D.A. Dumbledore regarded her gently, but did not push for any information. He touched the tip of his wand to the wall and mumbled a spell.

“I wonder, if perhaps the Room is not here.” He said after a moment.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, horrified at the thought. She had to get home to her time. Sudden thoughts of Ron standing next to this beautiful mystery woman at the altar and Hermione rushing in and declaring her love, old and grey.

“Rooms are not always what they seem in Hogwarts. Perhaps the Room of Requirement exists elsewhere now than it does in your time.”

“But the castle is huge! I don’t know if I’ll be able to find it! That could take years.” A full panic had bloomed in Hermione’s chest. Dumbledore put a hand on her slender shoulder, calming Hermione slightly. She had forgotten what a reassuring presence Dumbledore was.

“Let’s worry about the now, Ms. Granger. What year are you?”

“I suppose I’m seventh year.” Hermione replied, hoping that Dumbledore wouldn’t ask any further questions. She wasn’t sure how she could answer taking her N.E.W.Ts a year late.

“Alright. I do believe we need to get you set up for some classes. It is exceedingly rare that Hogwarts gets a transfer student, but it is not unheard of. Perhaps you have been homeschooled until this point, yes? But wanted to try to spend your last year among peers. We’ll need Headmaster Dippet’s approval of course.” Hermione nodded numbly.

“Professor, why are you helping me?” Hermione asked. This Dumbledore did not know her. He certainly was under no obligation to help her.

“I believe you, Ms. Granger. And if you are who you say you are, it is in my best interest to help keep things on track, wouldn’t you say?”

“Thank you, Professor.” Hermione smiled warmly at him, and his moustache curved into a smile in response. They began walking back to his office, plans needing to be drawn.  
“Wait, Professor, what year did you say it was?” Hermione asked, something dawning on her.

“1944.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say that I've take some time line liberties. All of these characters may not have canonically been in the same place at the same time.

Just as every year, the first of September came with a bang. The empty hallways suddenly alive with the chatter of students and teachers alike. Some excited for what wait ahead, and others groaning at the prospect of homework.

  
Tom gave the “Head Boy” badge on this chest one last polish before entering the Great Hall. Shannon Weasley waved at him from the front of the room, a smile splayed across her round bumpkin-like face.

  
_How is this red-headed mistake pure blood?_  He thought as he raised his slender hand, a grand smile gracing his own face.

  
“Hey, Tom! Everything is all set for the first year for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Isn’t this exciting?” She touched the “Head Girl” badge on her chest absent-mindedly.

  
“That’s great to hear. Everything is also good for Slytherin and Ravenclaw. I believe we’re good to take our seats.” he replied, keeping cheer in his tone. She blushed slightly.

“I’m really glad you ended up getting chosen for Head Boy.” she said touching his arm softly. He glanced down, mind calculating.

“Me too, Shannon.” he replied easily, placing his hand on top of hers and meeting her light blue eyes with his dark grey ones. Shannon’s blush deepened considerably. “Let’s get to our tables. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble.” He said, causing Shannon to giggle amicably.

“Here’s our Head Booooy!” A slim white-blonde boy sang out as Riddle approached, his long arms swinging about, nearly cracking the reading boy next to him in the face.

“Knock it off, Malfoy.” Said the boy next to him, irritably, fixing his round wire glasses, which seemed oddly small on his large face.

Riddle brushed at his sleeve in disgust, trying to wipe off Shannon’s touch, before sitting down across from Abraxas Malfoy. He nodded to Avery, who nodded back before returning to his book.

“Head boy, huh? This is the highest honor you’ve ever received right Riddle?” Malfoy said, his mouth twisted in a sarcastic smile. Riddle fixed a polite smile onto his own.

“Careful, Malfoy or you might cost us the House Cup.” Dolohov said wryly. Malfoy tossed his hair out of his eyes, smiling widely.

“Quiet down. The first years are going to start soon.” Riddle said, calming the table immediately.

The first years filed in, looking a mixture of terrified and in awe. They looked so small and weak, Riddle mused. It was odd to think that he was once as small.

_But never as weak_ he thought, twirling his father’s ring along his finger. The sorting hat picked quickly, sorting only a few promising pure bloods into Slytherin.

“Congratulations to all our new first years. I hope that you find comfort in your new homes in the coming year.” Dippet droned. His introduction speeches were always long winded; an ode to his ego.

“And now, for some unusual news.” Dippet said. Tom glanced up in muted interest. “We have not only our first years starting this year, but also a seventh year. Please welcome, Hermione Wilkins!” A confused clap rolled out across the hall. A girl entered through the double doors. A firm strip of pink crossed her olive cheeks, marking her as clearly mortified by the whole event.

Despite her clear discomfort, the girl walked with her small chin stuck up and her back straight in haughty defiance.

“Oh Merlin, that hair.” Malfoy whispered from across the table. It was true, her hair seemed to have a mind of its own, it’s curly mass bouncing as she took each step. Riddle was sure he had never seen anything like it. He touched his own hair, to make sure it was still in place.

She shook Headmaster Dippet’s hand and plonked down on the stool, managing to make the whole affair look sloppier than the first years had. Riddle felt laughing out loud at the absurdity.

The hat barely seemed to fit over her massive hair. But it only needed to be on there a moment before yelling **GRYFFINDOR** to the room. And eruption of cheers went up throughout the Gryffindor table.

“No loss there.” said Dolohov from next to him. Riddle agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.

Although he wouldn’t admit he was looking for the girl, Riddle found the small woman seated next to Shannon Weasley, who was eagerly chatting, introducing the girl to the rest of the seventh years. The girl laughed along with Weasley, her mouth forming an easy smile.

Weasley caught Riddle’s gaze and smiled widely, waving from across the Great Hall. Riddle raised his hand in recognition.

The girl turned her eyes to him, causing Riddle’s blood to freeze. There was nothing but hate in her eyes. Pure unbridled loathing emanated from her very being. He stared back, held by the intensity of her emotion. She turned her attention back to Shannon Weasley, the moment gone.

“She’s kinda cute under all that hair.” Malfoy said cheekily, brushing his hair out of his eyes again. Antonin Dolohov just scoffed, but Riddle seethed with sudden anger. How dare she look upon him with anything but admiration. He was being judged unworthy? She wasn’t worthy to lick the bottom of his boots.

Riddle took a deep rattling breath and ran his fingers through his hair. It will be alright, he told himself. He glanced back over at her. She smiled politely as she shook hands with Longbottom. He would introduce himself, she would swoon and then everything would be right in the world.

\----

Hermione sat on her bed, head swimming at the surrealism of the past week. She was sitting in the same dorm, on the same four poster bed even, as she did fifty years in the future. Rather than having Ginny to her left, it was instead, who she could only assume, was Ginny’s relative. The same fiery hair that marked a Weasley haloed around her face as she slept.

What was happening in the future? Would Malfoy come looking for her, carrying Ron’s letter of rejection? A pang shot through her heart remembering the unexpected note. A week had passed and it still felt fresh. Hermione laid down, burying her head in her pillow.

Tomorrow as her first day of classes. It was strange, there were people here, that she vaguely knew. Having heard of them referred to as “grandma this” and “grandpa that”. There were also people that she clearly recognized, Hermione thought, anger catching in her throat.

He had caught her eye from across the tables. Dark waves perfectly coiffed, charming smile dimpling his cheeks. Even a “Head Boy” badge gleamed on his chest. Hermione could objectively see why Shannon Weasley swooned a bit as she told Hermione his name.

Hermione had been prepared to see Riddle the moment she figured out that she had been dropped into his final year at Hogwarts. But she had been unprepared for the visceral reaction she would have seeing him. When she looked at his chiseled face all she saw was the faces of those he had tortured and killed. In his cheeky, perfect smile she saw the death of Dumbledore, of Tonks, Lupin, Fred, and all the people that she loved and he had taken away from her.

Hermione wiped a tear away. She could kill him, she realized. Catch him unawares. He would already have the diary and maybe the ring by this point. But she could find those, destroy them, and make sure the world never had to suffer through the terror that she did.  
Hermione laughed at herself and turned over in her bed. So much for not wanting to alter time. Although logically she dismissed the notion entirely, a rebellious part of her didn't immediately let go of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Hermione fruitlessly tried to rub warmth back into her hands as she sat down to breakfast. The chill of September had set in quickly, leaving the warmth of August long behind. Hermione poured herself a cup of tea, holding it tightly as she looked over her classes for today. Potions and Arithmancy. She was lucky that Headmaster Dippet had taken her at her word about what studies she had receive the appropriate grades in her O.W.L.s. It would have been unthinkable if she hadn’t been able to attend any of the N.E.W.T level classes she needed to.

Hermione tapped the words ‘Ancient Runes’ a frown on her face. That silver and black Time Turner had had some strange runes carved into it. They hadn’t looked familiar, but perhaps she could research, if she remembered them correctly. She had never seen anything like that Time Turner before. It could have something do do with the strange room.

“Morning Hermione!” An upbeat voice disrupted her train of thought, although Hermione smiled at the intrusion.

“Good morning, Harfang.” she replied, handing him the pot of tea as he settled down. The similarities between Harfang Longbottom and Neville were subtle. It wasn’t so much the way they looked, although they did share similar cheeks as well as the wild sweep of their hair. It was deeper, the similarities set firmly in their mannerisms. It made Hermione miss her friend terribly. He had gone the Auror path same as Harry and… Ron.

“What classes have you got today?” He asked, snagging Hermione’s schedule and breezing over it.

 _Well, he’s certainly is less timid than Neville._ She thought wry.

“Oh, we’ve got Potions together, that’s fantastic. We can walk down after breakfast.” Neville handed her paper back to her, smiling. Hermione must have found the smile infectious, because she found herself returning it.

“Morning!” Shannon plopped down next to Hermione, immediately digging into the plate of eggs. “Ugh, I’m so tired from quidditch practice. Ariel is a crazy person for starting us on the first day of classes at the crack of dawn.”

“Yeah, but Gryffindor would be garbage without her.” Harfang replied. Shannon shrugged in reply, mouth too full to say anything. The three of them focused on breakfast in pleasant silence. If Hermione closed her eyes, it was almost as if she was back in her time. Surrounded by the familiar din of the Great Hall. Any moment now, Harry would start to go off about quidditch or Ron would ask to see her homework...

“Oh there’s Tom!” Shannon cried, a sweet blush across her face.

Hermione opened her eyes and glanced up. Looking perfectly coiffed and collected, Tom Riddle entered. He nodded politely to people as they greeted him. It seems the tales of Voldemort’s popularity were not exaggerated. It made Hermione sick to her stomach. She pushed her plate away.

“I should go see how his first day as Head Boy is going” Shannon said, subconsciously adjusting her badge. Hermione wanted to shake her new friend. He’s evil! He’s a rotted apple with a shiny skin. Examine it closer before you sink your teeth in!

“I’ll see you guys later!” Shannon snagged a piece of toast, ran her fingers through her luxurious fiery hair, and hurried off. Hermione checked her watch. There was still some time before class, but perhaps she could pace in front of some dungeon walls and mark them off from being the location of the Room of Requirement. The faster she found the blasted room, the faster she could get home.

“I’m going to head down early, Nev--Harfang” Hermione reddened at near mistake.

“I’ll come with you.” Harfang said, his tone far less cheery than it had been earlier. He pushed away his plate of half eaten food. Hermione noted it with puzzlement.

“Alright”

 

\-----

 

Potions was held in the same dungeon as in her time, with the same teacher, giving the same overly verbose speech about overcoming trials and trusting in leadership. Really, the only thing that had changed was Hermione. Rather than taking notes, she was laser focused on the man, boy really, sitting two seats over from her. She watched Tom Riddle out of the corner of her eye as he diligently took notes and nodded along to Slughorn’s self indulgent tirade thoughtfully. Although logic told Hermione that he wasn’t going to whip out his wand and perform an Unforgivable Curse right in that very room; she couldn’t stop her fingertips from itching for her wand.

Every now and again she could feel him glance her way.

 _Just the usual curiosity at a new student_. She told herself. In fact, she had felt a few eyes on her from the other Houses.

“And then for the final month that we have before Christmas, we will be brewing the immensely difficult Veritaserum potion. Only this class, under my leadership, will be able to brew such a complex potion so early in their career. Prepare to be challenged! And that… is that! For this week’s homework, please read through chapter twenty and bring in three ingredients that you think that best synergize in making a Cure All for poisons.”

Hermione shook her head and scoffed. She hoped her other classes proved more interesting. Redoing two months of work was tedious at best.

 _At least it’ll give me time to focus on other things._ Her mind wandering back to the Room of Requirement.

“That was beyond boring.” Harfang said under his breath. Although she would normally frown and tell him off, Hermione instead snickered.

“I’m sure it’ll get more interesting. In fact, I bet next class we’ll need to brew an anti-poison potion for something along the lines of BloodRoot poison.” Harfang gave her a weird look, but Hermione just quirked her mouth into a half smile.

“I don’t even know what BloodRoot poison does. How can I make a cure?” He said, shaking his head.

“Oh no, I have to go. I’m helping out a friend round up doxies and told him that I’d meet him at noon. I’ll see you back in the common room, Hermione!” Harfang dumped the rest of his books haphazardly into his bag and waved goodbye.

 _Doxies, huh? It seemed the classic notion of Gryffindors being brave and loyal holds true,_ Hermione thought, stacking her papers.

“Here let me help you with that.” Tom Riddle’s smooth voice was suddenly right next to her. His well groomed hand reaching over to help form a neat stack of the loose notes.  
Hermione’s head shot up so quickly that her neck gave a small crack in protest.

“No, that’s okay!” she replied, sweeping her arms out, suddenly very protective of her papers. He stood and watched as she frantically stuffed the loose parchment into her book and slammed it into her bag.

_This is my worst nightmare._

“I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Tom Riddle. I’m the Head Boy.” He extended a large hand. Hermione stared at it. Stared at the gleaming gold and black signet ring on it. Was that repulsive thing already a Horcrux?

 _No, this is my worst nightmare_.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hermione stuck out her chin and met his eyes. They were a dark charcoal, devoid of any color. The deep shade of the grey should have given him a sense of warmth, but Hermione felt as if she could see through it. Down to the cold calculating shark below. A pleasant smile graced his well formed lips, causing his cheek to dimple pleasantly. She wondered how often he had practiced that expression in a mirror before mastering it.

“My name is Hermione Wilkins.” She grasped his hand firmly. She was surprised to find that his hand wasn’t smooth and spider-like, as his next self’s would be. But instead it was warm, slightly calloused, and alarmingly human.

They shook hands for longer than necessary, neither willing to back down. A safe smile set on Riddle’s face, and a stubborn lift on Hermione’s chin. They dropped hands at the same time, a wordless truce.

“How are you enjoying Hogwarts so far, Ms. Wilkins? If you like, I can show you around the grounds a bit.” He asked smoothly.  
Hermione found herself instantly furious. Heat rushed through her veins, pushed by her thudding heart. How dare he speak to her as if everything is normal. After all he has done and will do.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Riddle, but I need to be on my way.” She said, a curl in her lip.

“Of course, Ms. Wilkins. As I said, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”  
It took everything in Hermione’s power to not knock something over on her way out.

 

\--------

 

How dare she!

_How dare she! How dare she! How dare she!_

An empty bottle on the shelf exploded, raining down shards of glass into an empty cauldron. Professor Slughorn jumped in surprise, but Abraxas Malfoy watched his friend with narrowed eyes.

“By Merlin's beard, what was that?” Slughorn exclaimed. Riddle placed an expression of surprised puzzlement on this face and turned to the professor.

“It looks like a bottle broke. How odd. Would you like me to fix it for you, Professor?”

“Oh, please do, my good boy. I must be off.” Slughorn patted him on shoulder as he left, leaving the two boys alone in the dungeon.

Riddle didn’t bother to pull out his wand, repairing the glass with silent magic.

That little bitch. He had watched her through class, repeating over and over in his head the words he would use to get a blush to stain her cheeks. He would have been the perfect Head Boy. The perfect guide to the castle. He’d have shown her around and had her giggling by the end. Another one for the fan club and firmly under his control.  
Instead she stared up at him with defiance in her eyes. That insolence alone grated him. But what was the root of that fire in her eyes? Or the snarl on her lips?? Her name and face were not familiar to him. He clearly was to her.

“Everything alright… Lord Voldemort?” Abarax asked quietly, eyes flickering to the open door to make sure there was no one listening in.

Riddle closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The name alone soothed everything. His real name.

“Everything is under control.” Riddle replied, turning to his subordinate. Riddle touched his hair. Still perfectly in place.

“She’s a firecracker, huh?” Abraxas asked, sensing the dark mood of the room had lifted somewhat.

“She’s a dog.” Riddle replied lowly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Abraxas shrugged.

“Introduce me next time. I like the ones I have to work a little” Malfoy snickered as they exited.

“You’re good at introducing yourself to women, Malfoy. You don’t need me. Although she hardly qualifies.” Riddle clenched his fist, thinking of how delicate and warm she had felt in his palm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Also I have no idea what I'm doing. Also Riddle is not a good guy. Not sure where I'm taking this, but it's probs not going to be flowery? Also thanks for the reads and reviews.

Riddle twiddled his quill in his fingers, watching Hermione Wilkins as she diligently wrote notes to Dumbledore’s ramblings. Her soft looking mouth moved along silently to her notes. A hand reached up to tuck her wild curls behind an ear. In a moment it would spring out, unable to be contained, Riddle knew.

He had been watching her for several weeks now. Hoping for a chance to see into her, into her secrets. Every day was even more disappointing than the last, and her to be more and more of a nuisance. In every class, she excelled, shifting the spotlight from him to her. Her hand would shoot straight up, long before he could raise his own. The enthusiasm thrilled professors. And something about her no nonsense behavior and patience made students approach her with ease. Riddle had seen several students go to her instead of him with questions. Although he should have welcomed the vermin no longer distracting him from his work, Riddle found that it irked him. Who was she to waltz in and assume such popularity over him?

Riddle raised his hand, an answer to Dumbledore’s question on his tongue. Instead the old man turned his attention to the girl.

“Unlike an Animagi, becoming a Metamorphmagi is not a skill that can be learned or taught.” Hermione stated, matter-of-factly.

“Indeed. Ten points to Gryffindor.” Dumbledore sounded pleased.

Riddle gripped his quill, feeling it bend beneath his grip. Everyone and everything bent beneath his grip. Hermione Wilkins would as well.

 

“Miss Wilkins.” Riddle straightened his robe cuffs as he approached her. The girl jumped in surprise whipping around, her hair bouncing off her cheeks as she stopped. The light scent of peach wafted over Riddle for a moment. The girl narrowed her eyes when she realized it was him.

 _Always so suspicious, aren’t you?_ He thought, working hard to keep his smile from turning into a grimace. _Foul woman._

“Yes?” She asked with a guarded tone.

“I was hoping you could read over my Transfiguration essay due next week,” he started. “You seem incredibly knowledgeable on the subject of Metamorphmagi, and I feel that you would give me some insightful feedback.” He said, appealing to her ego.

The girl met his gaze, eyes wide and clearly unsettled. He put on his best disarming smile; something to cure her unease. She would agree. How could she not? Then after she gave him some useless feedback, which he would accept gracefully, she would see that he was nothing to be timid around. Then, slowly he would wrap this bright young witch around his finger, working all of her secrets out of her before casting her aside. Perhaps she would make a good minion. She did seem clever. His first female follower.

“No.” Her reply was short and simple. Surprise hit him like like a ton of bricks.

“I-I beg your pardon?” Riddle stammered out.

“I don’t have time. Excuse me.” she said sharply, turning on her heel and exiting. He stared numbly after her. Sudden white hot rage coursed through him. He threw his bag over his shoulder, intending to follow. To demand.

“Mr. Riddle?” It took Riddle a moment to realize his name was being called, by a soft but authoritative voice.

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore?” he asked, raking his fingers through his hair. She was getting away.

“If you would, help me carry these tomes to my office.” Dumbledore gestured to a pile of impossibly large books. He watched Riddle closely.

“Of course, Professor.” Riddle’s tone was even and pleasant, but inside rage boiled right beneath the surface. He would get her.

\---- 

“Thank you, Professor.” said Hermione graciously as a teacup levitated into her outstretched hands. It was warm, the smell of peppermint soothing her jangled nerves. Two weeks. She had been stuck in the past for two solid weeks. Deep dark wells had formed under her eyes from long sleepless nights as she prowled the castle searching for the Room of Requirements.

“How goes your search, Ms. Granger?” Dumbledore settled into his seat across from her. She watched a small silver orb on his desk whirl around in a quick circle for a moment before pulling a parchment out of her bag. She unfurled it, revealing a rough map of Hogwarts. Areas were scribbled out and redrawn, her neat penmanship noted along the side. Dumbledore looked at it closely.

“I’m working through the castle as best I can. So far to no avail.” Hermione scrubbed her face. “I’m not even sure I’m making the right request.” Dumbledore examined the phrases and the crossed out sections of the diagram.

  * _I want to get to the future._
  * _I want to go home._
  * _I need to to return to the year 1998._



“I’m sorry that I cannot be of more help, Ms. Granger. I have never heard of nor seen the version of the room you’re describing.” Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

“There is one thing. There was a Time Turner that looked different from the others.” Hermione said.

“Oh?”

“It was silver and black and had a small circle in the middle. Runes along the edges…” Hermione pulled out a piece of paper and quill, drawing a crude example. Art had never been her forte. She blew on the ink to dry it and handed the paper to Dumbledore.

“I see. Can you remember the runes, or did you recognize any of them?” he asked. Hermione screwed her eyes closed, trying to think back.

“No, I’m sorry.” She cursed herself for not paying closer attention.

“Ah well. Do you mind if I keep this?” Dumbledore asked, holding up the paper and adjusting his half moon spectacles.

“Not at all, sir.” Hermione replied. “I should get going. I want to check the library again to see if I can find anything.” Hermione missed her copy of Hogwarts. A History dreadfully. But it wouldn’t be published for another forty or so years.

“Ah, Ms. Granger.”

“Yes?” Hermione paused rolling up her scroll and returning it to her bag.

“It seems as if our young Mr. Riddle has taken an interest in you.” Hermione’s blood turned cold.

“Oh? He had just asked me for notes.” She licked her lips nervously, hyper aware to not say anything that could reveal information about the future.

“I would recommend being wary of such attention from Mr. Riddle.” A moment of darkness passed across Dumbledore’s face. It was odd to see such a knowledgeable and serene man troubled.

“Do not worry, sir. I do not intend to consort with Tom Riddle at all.” Hermione said pushing her chin into the air. Dumbledore watched her closely. No doubt trying to assess what her response could mean for the future. She nodded and left, hoping she did not reveal too much.

\----

Tom sat draped across a black leather chair staring silently into the fire. Although his posture looked relaxed, his face was taunt and his long fingers dug into the soft leather of the the armrests. Avery read in the other chair, his large frame eating up the entirety of it.

“I think we’ll easily beat Gryffindor this year now that their star Keeper has graduated.” Abraxas Malfoy sat splayed on the couch, still in his quidditch gear from practice. He tossed a quaffle into the air mindlessly.

“They have Ariel. The rest of the team is rubbish, though. Weasley can’t hit a bludger to save her life.” Dolohov replied, eyes never leaving his homework scroll.

“Yeah, but what she lack in talent, she makes up for in enthusiasm. Ravenclaw is a joke too. It’s pretty much in the bag for us.” Malfoy tossed the quaffle up again, catching it.

“There’s always Hufflepuff.” Dolohov said, finally looking to catch Malfoy’s eye. To that, they both laughed.

“You’re still working on that Transfiguration paper?” Malfoy gestured to Dolohov’s sloppy work.

“Have you even started?” Dolohov asked dryly.

“It’s a pain. I still don’t fully understand.” Malfoy complained. He tossed the quaffle up again. “Maybe I’ll ask that fine little piece, Hermione, to help me out.” He tossed it again. “She could certainly help me in a lot of ways–”

The quaffle hit the wall, exploding into shards of wood. Malfoy sat up alert, mouth open in surprise. Riddle stood, cold fury etched into his face. The room had grown cold and silent, three pairs of eyes on their leader.

“L-Lord Voldemort, I’m sorry if I–” Riddle gripped under Malfoy’s jaw, pulling him to his feet. Malfoy winced in pain, but made no move to resist, instead rising to his feet. Although Abraxas stood several inches taller, he cowered before Riddle making him seem small.

Riddle’s knuckles turned white as he squeezed his follower’s jaw. Fury roiled through him, pushing to be released. Instead he leaned close to Malfoy.

“Do it.” He said through clenched teeth.

“W-what?” Malfoy asked, his light grey eyes meeting Riddle’s nearly black ones. Riddle could see himself, Lord Voldemort, reflected in the fearful eyes of his follower. He liked it. Riddle released his jaw, pushing him backwards back onto the couch.

“Ask her for help. I want to see her reaction.” Riddle settled back into his chair, leaning back into a comfortable pose.

“Yes, Lord Voldemort.” Malfoy said, subdued.

 _If she rejects him, it’s not just me._ If she doesn’t. Well, I’ll reassess then. A large grin cast odd shadows over Riddle’s well formed face.

\----

Hermione crossed _Space and Magic_ off her list of potentially useful books. Although the theories presented had been interesting, they were entirely useless for Hermione’s purpose. She slammed the tome closed and felt about ready to pull her hair out. It had been three days since her meeting with Dumbledore and she had gained no new information.

Not only did she have seven N.E.W.T level classes to keep up with, she spent all her free time sneaking around the hallways in order to pace in front of walls and think at them. It was a wonder she hadn’t been caught sneaking about at night.

“Is anyone sitting here?” Hermione glanced up to a boy pointing at the chair next to her. A very blond boy with a telltale angular face. Abraxas Malfoy.

“No not at all.” Hermione gestured to it, pulling her work closer to her to make room. He thanked her and sat down. Hermione glanced around the library. It was true that it was especially busy at the moment. Hermione had even noticed, much to her chagrin, Tom Riddle huddled over some books and parchment at a back table. Most tables were full, but at least a few had open seats. Hermione was immediately suspicious.

They sat next to each other in silence, each working. Hermione found herself glancing over at him, fascinated. He looked so similar to Draco Malfoy, it was eerie. Sharp cheeks, a firm jaw, and long white blonde lashes all seemed to be Malfoy exclusives. There were some differences, though. His light hair hung into his eyes, rather than being swept back as Draco had preferred. His nose was less thin, that aristocratic nose must have been a trait Draco had gotten from his mother.

Amused light grey eyes snapped Hermione back into reality.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry for staring.” She said, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “You just remind me of someone.”

“Oh? I hope you’re remembering that person in a favorable light.” Malfoy said, smiling a little. Hermione felt her blush deepen. She looked away from him, her words twisting in her mouth.

“Yes, I suppose. We’re friendly at the very least.” She felt unsure of how to reply. Her conversations with Draco had always felt stilted, although not unpleasant. It was something she had grown quite fond of. Their friendship had been focused on school work and comfortable silences. It was odd to be so engaged by someone that looked so similar.

“I hope you and I will be friendly as well. My name is Abraxas Malfoy. I don’t believe we’ve met officially.” He held out a pale hand. His hand felt calloused and warm, she noted. The same as Harry’s.

“We’re in some of the same classes. I believe at least Potions and Transfiguration. I’m Hermione Wilkins.” she replied, allowing a small smile.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Wilkins.” He smiled politely.

“Please, call me Hermione.” she found herself saying.

“Hermione then. And please call me Abraxas.”

“Abraxas.” she replied, deciding she liked the way her name sounded on his tongue. He leaned a little closer to her and lowered his voice.

“I have something to admit, Hermione.” A tingling shiver moved up her back, as she met his mischievous stare.

“Oh?” She managed.

“My intentions to sit next you weren’t entirely pure.” He said. Her lips parted, suddenly aware of how close he was. “I was hoping you could review my Transfiguration paper due next week.”

“Oh!” Hermione leaned back in her chair. An odd mix of relief and disappointment washed over her. Her thoughts moved to Ron for a moment, which added guilt to the strange mix of feelings. “Why don’t you ask Riddle to help you? He’s just as well versed and your friend.”

“I don’t know if I’d call us friends. And I wanted to ask you, Hermione.” He said seriously, holding her eyes once more. Heat crawled up her neck, thoughts of Ron dulled.

“Well alright then. Let’s see what you’ve got. I’ll help as best I can.” Hermione said, throwing on her practical facade. Next to her, Abraxas smiled. What an interesting girl.

\---- 

Riddle threw out his hands, sending a strong gust of wind barrelling down the empty hallway in front of him. A tapestry ripped from the wall, but with wave of his hand it righted itself before Riddle started the process over.

She had giggled. At some inane bullshit that had crept up Malfoy’s throat and out his silver tongued mouth. That clever little witch had been amused. Riddle sat in the library, ink leaking onto his forgotten parchment as he observed the exchange. He watched her as she watched Malfoy. Watched as her olive cheeks glowed pink. Watched as her mouth curved into a smile. Malfoy had even had the audacity to tuck her hair behind her ear when her hands were full. And she _thanked_ him for it. Riddle threw another blast of wind down the hall.

He had said nothing to Abraxas when they had returned to the Common Room. Instead ripping the scroll out of Malfoy’s hands, read it quickly. It was outstanding work. Nothing that Malfoy could have come up with on his own.

Riddle tossed it into the fireplace before leaving to make his rounds as Head Boy. That had been hours ago and his rage still hadn’t settled. Wilkins had to know something about him. That he had killed his father or opened the Chamber of Secrets. Or maybe she was scheming with that nuisance Dumbledore. There was no other reason for Malfoy to get smiles and Riddle to get sneers.

“Not here either.” the soft sound of a feminine caught Riddle’s ears as he rounded a corner. There she was. Forehead resting against the cool stone of the wall. Riddle raised his eyebrows in shock. How had she not heard him coming? A low irritated groan grumbled from the girl. Well, it didn’t matter. Delight coursed through him.

“It’s past curfew, Ms. Wilkins.” He said, putting on his best ‘Head Boy’ voice. It took her an unusually long time to turn to him. As if not realizing he had called her name. But when she did, Riddle was rewarded by beautiful and pure terror.

“Riddle.” She said, taking a step away from him, as if she thought she could run. He stalked over to her, his smile teetering on the edge of a sneer. This was it. Alone at last.

“You do know that it is long past curfew, don’t you Ms. Wilkins?” he stopped in front of her, bearing down. “Do you care to explain what you’re doing out of bed?” Her fear was palpable. Her mouth opened and closed as if her mind couldn’t catch up and think of excuses in time.

“You know, I can punish you for this, right?” His voice was low now. The girl moved to retreat further, but his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. He could feel the racing of her pulse beneath his fingers.

“Let me go.” She commanded, pushing her chin up into the air. She met his eyes, her hate burning through her fear. Riddle gritted his teeth. There it was. That defiance that vexed him so.

She pulled, trying to break his grip. Riddle instead pulled her to him, knocking her off balance for a moment before slamming her back into the stone wall. She frantically moved to pull her wand from her robes, but he quickly snatched her other wrist. She struggled, kicking at him, but he moved closer, cutting off her mobility.

He stared down at her, breathing heavily as adrenaline spiked in his blood. She stared back, her honey eyes dilated in the dark. He could feel the puffs of her breath on his chin and lips.

 _What am I doing?_ He wondered. He almost never resorted to physical violence. Magic and manipulation were much cleaner alternatives. But now twice in one day he had used physical force. What was this witch doing to him?

“Let go of me.” her tone carried an air of snobbery and authority to it that didn’t fit the situation at all. He squeezed her wrists a little tighter.

“What were you doing down here, Ms. Wilkins?” He asked. His voice steady despite how he felt.

“Nothing that is your business, Riddle. If you’re going to give me a detention, just get it over with.” Her superior tone annoyed him to no end. He shifted her wrists to one hand, and resting his other hand along her jaw, pressing closer into her body. His long fingers trailed along her neck where he could feel the same fluttering jumping pulse as before. Good. She should be afraid.

“I said I was going to punish you, not give you a detention.” His voice was low. Her eyes widened and he felt her swallow hard. “Now, let me ask again. What were you doing down here, Hermione.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. His eyes trailed to her lips as they parted. Sudden awareness of the situation hit him. The heat of her body and the floral peach scent rising off of her, made his head swim and heart pump. Must be some effect of her perfume, he thought dimly.

“Is this how you use your Head Boy title? To intimidate other students? I wonder what Headmaster Dippet would say about this.” Any fear she had was pushed back. Clear and unaffected confidence laced her tone.

Riddle was suddenly certain that she knew none of his secrets. There was no way she would be staring up at him with such malice if she knew how easily he could kill. How willing he was to do so. He would still discover her secrets, but felt at ease with the realization that she didn’t know his. Relief surged through him. He had time. There was no rush or push. She knew nothing of him. Eventually he would know everything about her. And then he would assess her worth to him.

It's easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar. And she certainly was an annoying buzzing fly. 

“You’re right, Ms. Wilkins. I apologize.” He said, stepping back and smoothing his hair. “That was most unlike me.” She watched him with a guarded gaze, free hands now in her robes. No doubt wrapped around her wand.

“I really apologize. I would never think of using force normally, but I saw you reach for your wand and restraint felt like the best option. It looked as if you were ready to hex me, Ms. Wilkins! Attacking another student with magic would have gotten you expelled.” He explained. His voice sincere and eyes pleading. She watched him with silent and assessing eyes.

“Please, let me walk you back to your dorm. It’s my duty as Head Boy to make sure everyone feels safe. I’m am extremely sorry if I made you feel the opposite of that. I misjudged your actions.” He cast his eyes down, looking appropriately shamed.

“It’s alright. I can manage.” she said slowly, backing up a little. He nodded solemnly.

“I hope in the coming school year, we can set our differences aside, Ms. Wilkins.”

The girl eyed him suspiciously before turning and walking away. Riddle grinned at her retreat, feeling lighter and more in control than he had in weeks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while.

****

Weak sunlight filtered through the Great Hall. It warmed the back of Hermione’s hands, trying to break her chilled mood. But to no avail. She had barely been sleeping recently, and slept even less the night before. Almost unconsciously, Hermione rubbed her wrists. 

He had attacked her. Riddle had attacked her. Could she call the way he assaulted her anything less? Hermione let out a shuddering breath as she recalled the way his fingers flitted along her throat, as if he was preparing to squeeze. Being killed by Voldemort had always been a risk. But in her worst nightmare, it was at the end of his wand, not by his actual hands. And then to pretend like he was acting on her safety. Hermione let out an angry chuff. 

“You okay, ‘Mione?” Shannon Weasley bumped her shoulder with hers, her hands both occupied with food. “You look dead tired.” 

Hermione blinked at her friend, quickly pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Yeah, I didn’t sleep well.” Hermione replied. Shannon reached across the table and snagged a carafe of coffee. 

“Drink some of this. I need you sharp for our Charms class today. Gotta steal your notes afterwards.” Shannon joked lightly. Hermione smiled in spite of herself. 

“You could always take your own notes.” she chided, pouring herself a cup of coffee. 

“I dunno, this situation is working out for me.” Shannon smiled at her friend.

“Morning Shan. ‘Mione.” Harfang plopped down across from the two girls, stealing back the coffee and pouring himself a mug. 

“Are you ready for your first game of the season this weekend?” Longbottom asked.

“It’s a scrimmage, not a real game.” Shannon answered.

“I’ll still be there as support.” Harfang smiled. Shannon shrugged.

“I’m still angry at you for not playing this year. If you have time to watch, you had time to play.” Shannon said, tossing Harfang an angry glare. She grabbed a bun and swung out of the bench. “I’ll see you in Charms, ‘Mione.” 

“What was that all about?” Hermione asked, her own problems pushed to the back of her mind. Harfang shrugged and scooped a large helping of eggs onto his plate.

“I had to choose between the Herbology club and being a Beater. Fran and Dmitri are already better than me, so it wasn’t a hard choice.” Harfang replied. “Shannon is just sore because we’ve been playing together since second year. She knows I’m rubbish.” He shook his head. His tone was matter-of-factly, but Hermione could see a shard of real hurt on his face.

“Come on, we better head out for Care of Magical Creatures.” She said, checking her small wristwatch. 

Hermione wrapped her robes tighter around her small frame. Care of Magical Creatures hadn’t been her favorite class in the future; a trend which had continued to the past. At N.E.W.T. level, the classes weren’t divided by House. Instead all interested, and qualified, students worked together. Much to her chagrin, Hermione had discovered that Tom Riddle was just as ambitions with his studies as she was. Although that came as no surprise. As Hermione and Harfang approached the class, Abraxas caught her eye. He raised a hand in unsure greeting, his eyes flickering over to Riddle, who seemed absorbed in a conversation with another Slytherin. Hermione raised her hand back and smiled. He looked so much like Draco Malfoy. It reminded her of how Malfoy had struggled in Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class. That put an instant smile on her face. 

Many students huddled together, casting warming charms against the chill of late September. Professor Hickleback was a small man who wore an immensely large fur coat at all times. Although his height wasn’t too far off of Hermione’s own, his width was nearly double. 

“Good morning class! Today we will be discussing the care of the Jobberknoll.” Professor Hickleback’s squeaky voice echoed through the courtyard. Hermione pulled out a quill and paper, trying to take the best notes she could while they crowded around a cage. 

Inside the cage was a beautiful blue bird. It eyed the class with twitchy curiosity. 

“Who can tell me what makes these birds so special?” the Professor asked. Hermione’s hand shot up so fast she could feel the ink from her quill splatter onto her cheek. “Yes, Ms. Wilkins.”

“The Jobberknoll is silent it’s whole life until the moment of its death. At that moment, it repeats everything it ever heard, backwards. The care of one is known to be quite easy. Even enjoyable. The Jobberknoll creates tight and loving bonds with it’s Wizard. Of course, the average life expectancy is only one to three years, causing a lot of heartbreak. Which is why many Wizards choose to not keep them as pets.” Hermione replied breathlessly. 

“Five points to Gryffindor.” The professor nodded. “Yes, Mr. Riddle?” 

“Sir, the Jobberknoll’s feathers are used in creation of Truth Potions. Namely, Veritaserum.” Riddle said in a practical tone. A delight smile cracked Hickleback’s wizened face. 

“Excellent Mr. Riddle. Fifteen points to Slytherin.” 

Hermione huffed in annoyance. Hagrid would have been more interested in the creature itself, not what it could do for Wizards. Riddle glanced over at her, a small and warm smile dimpling his cheeks. Hermione turned away as she felt a sneer yank at the corners of her mouth. The rest of the lesson went smoothly. Hermione was able to charm her parchment so it floated in front of her, allowing her free to take notes. She rolled up her parchment with a sense of satisfaction, feeling that they were clean and accurate. 

“Hermione!” She raised her head to see Abraxas jogging over to her. She smiled lightly. She had thought a lot about their last encounter. He was indeed handsome. The sneer that had practically been tattooed on Draco Malfoy’s face was absent from his, allowing his looks to shine. Although Hermione and Malfoy had overcome their differences in the future, that did not give his relative (perhaps grandfather? She suspected) a free pass to befriend her. She knew that underneath his friendly countenance, he was a loyal follower of Voldemort. If he knew that she was Muggleborn he certainly wouldn’t be smiling at her right now. In fact, why was he? Was the relationship between Gryffindors and Slytherins less tumultuous in the year 1944? She didn’t know. But it was good to be on her guard. 

“Hello, Abraxas.” Hermione replied easily. Longbottom looked on to the encounter with raised eyebrows. 

“I was wondering if I could walk you to your next class? Ah. Hello, Longbottom” A look of displeasure wiped over his face as he saw that Harfang was walking with Hermione.

“Malfoy.” Harfang replied drily. Hermione looked back and forth between them.

“If you like. Harfang and I have Herbology now.” she replied. Abraxas nodded and walked on her other side. 

_ This is quite odd.... _ Hermione thought. 

“How’s Quidditch going, Longbottom? Ah, that’s right. You quit. Well maybe we have something to worry about now that Ariel is playing with an actual full team.” 

“I don’t remember ever having a problem knocking the bludger your way, Malfoy. In fact, I distinctly remember that high pitched squeal you made last year when you got hit by one. You remember that, right? We talked about it the rest of the season. Eeeeehhh!!!” Harfang mimicked. Abraxas laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. Hermione rolled her eyes and tuned the conversation out. It was always about Quidditch with boys. 

In the distance she spotted a hulking figure raking leaves. Adrenaline spiked through her system and a smile stretched her face. 

“I’ll meet you in class!” Hermione called to Longbottom before racing off, leaving the arguing boys confused by her departure. 

“Hagrid!!” She yelled, racing towards the figure, her arms outstretched preparing a hug. The man looked up at her, bewildered and she skidded to a stop. Not man. Just boy. A boy a few years younger than herself. What on earth was she doing?

“Y-y-yes?” The boy asked. He towered over her, although he was nowhere near what his full height would be. A large coat touched the ground. Hermione wondered if it was the same one he wore in the year 1998. 

_ Idiot!  _ She chastised herself. How was she supposed to explain this? She couldn’t very well say she had mistaken him for someone else, as she had called his name. 

“Uhh… you’re Rubeus Hagrid?” she asked slowly, her mind racing to come up with an excuse for her over excitement. 

“Yes. How may I help yah?” He said timidly. Hermione noticed how he slouched his shoulders and let his hair hang in his face. 

“Umm… it’s just that…” You remind me of someone? No… I know your cousin? Even worse. “Professor Dumbledore mentioned you. I had asked him about… the best method…. for… transporting salamanders.” The lie left Hermione’s tongue clumsily. “He told me that I should ask you, as you’re very keen on animals.” 

“Oh! Well sure! Tha’ all depends o’ the heat of the fire that spawned them.” A smile cracked his broad face and Hermione was immediately transported back to her first year at Hogwarts. Hagrid smiling down at her, Ron, and Harry. 

“I’m very interested in your ideas on it. Perhaps we can discuss it over a cup of tea?” she offered. The boy nodded enthusiastically. “I’m free later in the week. My name is Hermione Gr-Wilkins”  

 

Tom Riddle’s lip drew into a thin line as he watched the girl shake hands with that large oaf. She had sprinted over to him.  _ Sprinted.  _ As if she already knew him. But how would she have known Hagrid? She had been home-schooled and Hagrid hardly left the campus. Unless Dumbledore asked him. Tom’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. The assurance he had felt the night before, that the girl hadn’t known any of his secrets, wavered. 

Tom scowled as the half giant smiled down at the bushy haired girl. A blush stained his already ruddy cheeks. Disgust swirled in Riddle’s gut. This was probably the first time a girl had ever spoken to the fat ogre. It was fitting that it would be that girl. They deserved each other. 

The girl turned and began trudging back up the hill towards the castle. A wide satisfied smile graced her cheeks, making Riddle feel another rush of anger. Why had she spoken to Rubeus Hagrid? Not only spoken to, but sought out? Riddle’s oxfords were moving across the grass before he even realized what he was doing. 

“Ms. Wilkins.” He said smoothly, alerting her to his presence. Hermione turned her head sharply, curls bouncing off her horrified face. 

“Riddle.” she replied, her feet moving faster. As if she could politely outpace him. His long legs kept up with her easily. He watched as she slipped a hand into her robe. Knowing that he made her so frightened gave him a splash of satisfaction. 

“I wanted to apologize again. For my actions last night.” He said.

“Mmm.” she replied, keeping her honey eyes set determintely forward. He paused to open the door to the castle. Stepping to the side, he gestured that she should go first. She glanced at him, mistrust pulling her brows downward. 

“I hope I didn’t tarnish any hopes of us becoming friends.” Riddle continued. He pushed an edge of regret into his voice.

“Your actions last night did no such thing.” Hermione said after a moment. Rather than feeling that the situation was rectified, Riddle felt even more confused. Her wording was a trap made of hidden meanings. 

“Ah… then perhaps we could study together some time Ms. Wilkins? You have an understanding of Ancient Runes that I confess, I can’t quite match.” He lied blatantly. She stopped sharply. Tom nearly kept walking, surprised by the action. He did not like to be surprised. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep controlled breath. 

“Thank you for walking me this far, Mr. Riddle. I don’t believe we have this next class together, so you should hurry to your own.” She looked up at him with defiant eyes. How dare she! He raged internally. A curse sat at the tip of his tongue as he stared down at her with fathomless eyes. He pushed sadness forward. Draw brows together and up. Bite Lip. Look at floor. 

“I guess I’ll take the hint. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Ms. Wilkins. Please… let me know if you change your mind.” He nodded at her and left. Shoulders sagging slightly. As soon as he rounded the corner, Riddle straightened his gait. He gritted his teeth. This was not retreat. He simply had to change his tactics.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fast update this time. Thank you for all the comments.

Hermione sat in Herbology, thinking of her encounter with Tom Riddle. She knew it was a front. Knew on an intellectual level that she hadn’t actually hurt his feelings. But he was a damn good liar. It was easy to see why all the professors and students were so taken with him. Riddle exuded charm and class. Hermione thought back to how Shannon Weasley had smiled wildly she first pointed Riddle out in the Great Hall. Hermione had wanted to scream at her. Warn her to run far in the other direction. She doubted her friend would appreciate the gesture. 

“My head’s so full of information, I feel like I’m going to fall over.” Longbottom said as he packed up his things. 

“That sounds like a first!” called out a Ravenclaw student with a cheeky grin. Longbottom raised his fists.

“Don’t make me pop you, Marc!”  Harfang shot back jokingly. Hermione quirked a smile. She was really enjoying her N.E.W.T classes, even if they were in the wrong time period. Everyone still belonged to their respective houses, but the classes themselves had less of a divide. Students mingled more freely. Although it was really only pleasant in classes that she had free of Riddle. Which were few and far between. 

“I’m going to head out to the Quidditch field to take a break before Charms. Wanna come?” Harfang asked.

“No, I’m going to go to the Library and finish up that Defense Against the Dark essay.” Hermione replied. She had finished that essay ages ago. In reality, she was going to scour the Library for more information on the Room of Requirement. She hadn’t known that it was capable of moving. It frustrated her to no end that there was something that she didn’t know. 

“Little Miss Go-Getter Wilkins” Harfang teased. 

_ You’re just going to see if Shannon is there _ . Hermione almost teased back before she remembered the look on his face earlier in the day and decided against it.

“Yeah yeah, well, let’s see who gets a higher score at the end of the semester. Then who will be laughing.” She said finally. 

 

Tom tapped his foot with some irritation. He sat in his favorite chair in the Slytherin Common Room, fully intending to focus on his essay for Charms, but it seemed so unimportant at the moment. His eyes skimmed what he had already written. It was passable. Good, even. He crumpled up the parchment and focused for a moment. The parchment quickly sparked into green flames in between his long fingers. He smiled and tossed it into the fireplace. The other students only glanced at him for a moment before averting their eyes. Every Slytherin student knew better than to get in his way. And if they didn’t, they certainly learned fast. 

He stood and stretched his legs. Although the essay wasn’t due for a week he knew that the girl would already be working on hers. She was probably in the library at this very moment, making the final touches. His lips pulled down into a scowl remembering her treatment of him. Tom wasn’t sure why his golden boy act dead-ended so badly with her. It had never failed him. 

_ Except for Dumbledore.  _ Tom reminded himself darkly. That old man had always seen through Tom’s demure smiles. 

_ They’re working together.  _ It was not the first time that the thought had come to Tom. New talented Gryffindor student. Mysteriously transferred in her Seventh year. Found wandering the castle by the most illustrious Head Boy. Tom narrowed his eyes. Even their kookie sense of style matched. Dumbledore with his outrageous robes and that girl, with her even worse hair. It wasn’t immediately clear to Tom what they were doing together, but he was sure that he didn’t like it.

“Options options…” Tom said quietly, to no one in particular while tapping his lips. 

He could threaten her. Easily overpower her and make her tell him what Dumbledore was planning. That seemed the most straightforward path. But what if that’s what Dumbledore wanted? Was this girl just spell fodder so Dumbledore would have his proof that Tom was practicing the Dark Arts after he attacked her?

Legilimency was always an option. He could just Obliviate her afterwards. He had been wanting to practice more. She seemed bright, perhaps her mind would offer up more of a challenge than his followers. Still, it might be better to keep that ace up his sleeve. Just in case Dumbledore was watching.

Using his charms hadn’t been working. Tom reached up and smoothed his hair. That annoyed him greatly. But after seeing the way the girl had raced over to that hairball, Rubeus Hagrid, it was clear the Dumbledore had already poisoned her against him. Was that something he could overcome? Tom pulled up his lips in an imitation of a smile. It certainly would be a challenge. Something to liven up his seventh year. 

He twisted the gold and black ring on his finger. 

Din suddenly filled the Common Room as his followers entered together. He graciously allowed both Malfoy and Dolohov to play on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Although now he stared down his nose at their muddy clothes. Barbaric. 

“Malfoy.” 

“Yes, my Lord?” Malfoy answered immediately. 

“Bathe quickly. I have a task for you.”  

 

Hermione pressed the heel of her thumb against her tired eyes. Charms had crawled by. They discussed the differences between the Flame-Freezing Charm and the Glacius charm for half the class and then practiced both for the second half. It had shocked Hermione at first that some of the students struggled with the spells. Hermione already knew both charms by heart. The first had saved her in a pinch after a Death-Eater lit her and a small muggle child on fire. Just for laughs. The second she had used many times in battle. It was dead useful, if a little rudimentary. The same Death-Eater surely wasn’t laughing when she encased his wand arm in ice. She wondered briefly if he had ever regained use of it. Probably not, with the extra twist Hermione added to her Glacius charms. 

Now, she sat in the Hogwarts Library, several scrolls unrolled in front of her. The sooner she finished her homework, the sooner Hermione could find out more information about the Room of Requirement’s location. Instead of focusing on her essay, she instead found herself redrawing the runes from that Time Turner as best she could. It wasn’t anything she had deciphered yet. In fact, she wasn’t even sure that she was drawing it correctly.

The start of a dull headache began to form in the front of her skull as she stated at all the unfurled scrolls. There was so much to do.

What if she never made it home? Was that really so bad, Hermione wondered. At least now she wouldn’t have to see Ron happily married to some other woman. Her heart ached a little in her chest. She hadn’t really given herself time to feel the hurt. Too much had happened in the past few weeks. So Hermione had put off the pain. Everytime she felt this wrenching feeling in her chest she would scurry off to solve the next problem. 

_ I haven't thought about Ron hardly at all. The Room of Requirement really was trying to help, I suppose.  _ Hermione though dully. But now, unsure if she would ever see Ron again, she had more to mourn than just her and Ron’s relationship. She might never seen any of her friends again. Harry. Ginny. Neville. A tear plopped onto Hermione’s parchment and she stared at it. Was she crying? That was silly. Hermione put down her quill and lightly slapped herself on the cheeks. 

There was no time to be sad. She had to get back to 1998 before she mucked about in the past for too long. 

“Hermione.” A smooth friendly voice caused her to jump. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Abraxas smiled down at her and flicked his hair out of his eyes. 

“Oh, I was just deep in thought.” she replied while trying to covertly wipe any remaining tears from her face. Abraxas scanned the library, looking anywhere but at her. She appreciated it.

“It’s pretty busy in here today and I was wondering if I could sit with you. I still haven’t finished that Defense essay that Professor Caguso gave us.” he said with a smile.

“Of course, there’s plenty of room.” Hermione gestured to the seat next to her. “That essay is due tomorrow. You should have finished it already.” she chided lightly. Hermione was secretly glad to not be alone with her thoughts. He shrugged and gave her a ‘what can you do’ look as he sat down. 

_ He smells good _ , Hermione thought, her cheeks lighting up. Hadn’t she just been wallowing about Ron? A stab of guilt hit her. 

“Would you mind looking it over?” Abraxas asked sheepishly. 

“Of course.” she replied, pulling over and unwinding the scroll. In comfortable silence they worked together on his essay. It was clear to Hermione that Abraxas was smart, but not nearly as articulate as his future relative. It was odd, Hermione found that she missed the companionship that her and Malfoy had fostered. Perhaps that's why she was so lenient with Abraxas. Even though she knew factually he was a disgusting blood supremacist.

“Ah, your spelling is atrocious.” Hermione said mildly. Abraxas laughed. 

“If that’s the worst part of the essay, then I’d consider that a win.” he replied. She shook her head, letting her curls bounce off her face. 

“Hello Abraxas.” A friendly voice made the hairs on Hermione’s neck rise. 

“Hey Tom.” Malfoy replied in an easy tone. “Come to work on your Charms essay?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Riddle said, noticing Hermione for the first time. He quickly glanced away from her suspicious stare. 

“Why don’t you sit with us?” Abraxas offered, causing a bolt of panic to shoot through Hermione’s body. Sit in Hogwarts Library. Doing Homework. With Voldemort. 

“I.. think I can go find another spot.” Riddle said lamely. He pulled nervously at his robes. The unsure gesture made him look young.

“Of course not. There’s plenty of room here. And the rest of the Library is packed. You don’t mind, right Hermione?” Abraxas turned back to her, resting his large hand on her forearm. She bit her lip.

“That’s fine.” She said through gritted teeth. It was something she'd have to deal with. Voldemort infected this version Hogwarts in full. She was finding it difficult to avoid him. And Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to. If she went out of her way to avoid him wasn't she just letting fear control her again? There was no reason she should amend her behavior for him. Everyone else did that for him. Not her.

Riddle settled down across from Malfoy. Hermione ignored him and continued reviewing the essay.

“Looks good. I've made a few adjustments.” Hermione slid the parchment back over to Abraxas. 

“Thanks, Hermione, you’re a lifesaver.” He scanned her neatly made correction. “I saw a book on Shield Charms and Counterspells. I’m going to go grab it.” Abraxas said, standing. Hermione was intrigued. A whole book dedicated to Shield Charms? She should take a look too, since they were going over them tomorrow in class. It wasn’t until he walked away that Hermione realized that Malfoy had left her alone with Riddle. A scowl furrowed her brow. 

_ Just focus on your work. _ She told herself. They sat in silence. Hermione glanced over at Riddle’s work. He had already filled out a foot and a half of neat spidery penmanship. Hermione had only written a foot so far. She focus and began scribbling a bit faster. She was finding it difficult to focus. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him absentmindedly brush his hair out of his face and rub an itch on his cheek. How could someone so normal looking be so rotted on the inside? How had he gone from looking like this to looking like a humanoid snake? Was his physical appearance reflective of his level of corruption? Questions rolled through Hermione’s head. 

“Can I help you with something, Ms. Wilkins?” Riddle asked. A piece of hair had fallen into his eye, and an unsure smile dimpled his cheek. He looked positively boyish. And for a horrifying moment, he reminded Hermione of Harry. 

“You can drop the act.” Hermione said, lifting her nose haughtily. 

“Act?” he asked. Everything about his question felt genuine. The way his eyes widened. His eyebrows pulled together slightly in confusion. Hermione turned back to her essay. It was difficult to look at him. Like having to accept two opposing truths at once. 

“This whole hurt schoolboy act.” Hermione said as she continued her essay. She regretted the words as they came out of her mouth. It would be better to pretend along with Riddle. It wasn’t like she planned on fighting him or revealing his evil to the world. She just wanted to get back home. What good would it do to antagonize him?

_ Don’t be an idiot. Just be polite.  _ She chastised herself. 

“I’m apologize. That was rude of me. I’m still a little shaken from last night.” Hermione said. Her hand returned to her absent minded rune doodling.

“Oh, yes. It’s quite alright, Ms. Wilkins. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all day either.” he said. Hermione shifted uncomfortably at his words. “We have a lot of classes together, so I hope that we will become fast friends.” 

“Hmm.” Hermione made a noncommittal reply. She was unable to agree with the sentiment, even though she knew that she should for show. 

“What’s that you’re drawing?” Riddle asked, interest clear in his deep voice. Hermione’s head shot up, unable to hide the panic in her eyes. His charcoal gaze watched her with assessing curiosity.

“Nothing! I mean, just some extra work for Ancient Runes class.” Hermione spoke fast.

“May I see it?” He asked. Hermione brushed her hand over the rune, casting a silent wandless Illegibilus spell. 

“I’m dreadfully embarrassed by the shoddy workmanship.” she explained.

“I see.” Riddle replied after a moment. “If you like a second opinion, I am rather skilled at Ancient Runes.”  Hermione nearly scoffed. Hadn’t he said earlier that day that she was better than him? 

“Hey Hermione!” A light bouncy voice carried through the library. Hermione looked up to see shiny red hair bouncing her way. 

“Hey Shannon!” Hermione replied with genuine happiness. Her savior! 

“Hi Tom.” Shannon said, her cheeks suddenly tinged pink. 

“Good evening, Shannon.” His voice sounded stiff to Hermione, but glancing over, his eyes crinkled warmly. He was frustratingly handsome. 

“Are you two already working on your Charms essay?”

“We are. Would you care to join us, Shannon?” Riddle asked, gesturing to the seat next to him. Shannon sat down delicately. Far more delicately than Hermione had ever seen her new friend sit. Although Hermione hated leaving her friend with Riddle, she was sure Shannon wouldn’t mind. In fact, she’d probably think that Hermione was doing her a favor, rather than beating a hasty retreat. 

“Actually…” Hermione feigned checking her watch. “It’s getting rather late, so I’m going to head back.” She stood and gathered her things quickly.

“Ah, that’s too bad.” Shannon said. But she didn’t seem too shook up about it.

“Tell Abraxas I said bye.” Hermione said as she left.

“Malfoy is here too?” Shannon asked exasperatedly. Hermione nearly laughed out loud as she left. Everyone at this school took their Quidditch rivalries too seriously.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm.

Riddle walked the halls with long sure strides and his chin raised high. Other students waved and nodded at him, his Head Boy badge gleaming proudly on his chest. Although his perfect hair and smooth skin didn’t betray it, Riddle was exhausted and angry. 

He thought back to when he had completed his first Horcrux. There hadn’t been a wonderful rush of Dark power. New and terrible knowledge hadn’t entered him. It had been horrible. His chest had a constant ache. Although he hid it well, Riddle was plagued with half formed nightmares for months. Only sleeping with his diary close by had gentled the assault. In time the pain lessened and the nightmares ceased. Replaced by an empty dreamless sleep that was even worse. He hated it. The feeling of nothingness that overtook him while he slept. Riddle wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was positive that’s what death felt like. It terrified him. He would awaken, flex his limbs, touch his face, and squeeze the diary to his beating chest. He would never die for real. He would always awaken, he repeatedly had to assure himself. Because he had created a Horcrux. But what if it got destroyed?

So he did it again.

The pain, while excruciating, had been less the second time. There had been only a small amount of nightmares. Nightmares that he welcomed with opened arms. Anything to keep from that void he usually felt. But even faster, the nightmares ceased leaving only that cursed void. That had been over a year ago. Which is why he was so unsettled this morning. 

Riddle had dreamt. Not nightmares, but actual dreams. Of that girl. How dare she. How dare that insignificant worm get under his skin. Riddle was very glad that the Head Boy and Girl got their own dorms. Even if he did have to share the Common Room with that annoying dolt, Weasley. It was a very good thing because he had awoken early in the morning with the visions of his dream still lingering in his mind. His chest had ached. And he had cried. Not loud shaking sobs, but Riddle had been unable to prevent tears from dripping down his cheeks and into his hair. It had been so long since he had dreamt. It was overwhelming. 

He ground his teeth as he rounded the final corner to the N.E.W.T Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Riddle knew that the dreams were of his own doing, but he still blamed that girl. And there she was. Nose in a book and standing next Weasley and Longbottom who were talking animatedly about something or other. All his previous desires to gently manipulate her into telling him Dumbledore’s secrets went out the window. Today he just wanted to curse that Know-It-All look off her face. 

“My Lord” Avery murmured as Riddle approached him. He said nothing, but instead watched the girl. What was her secret? Why did she annoy him so greatly?

“Alright class, let’s head in!” A scratchy voice echoed down the hall. Professor Caguso strut down the hall, waving his wand to open the classroom doors. Silent magic, but unimpressive to Riddle. By next year Caguso’s job would be his. Although the old man was skilled, Riddle was a far better choice for the position.

He glanced back to the bushy haired girl who shuffled in with friends. He was pretty sure he had seen her perform silent wandless magic the day before. Another thing that grated on him. He was the only student who could perform such a feat as far as he knew. Who was this girl? Where had she come from? 

“Last class we discussed at great length Shield charms. When to use them, and when to try to counter a spell instead.” Caguso said after he had collected everyone’s essays. “Can anyone give the class a quick refresher? Yes, Ms. Wilkins.” 

“Cast with enough power and precision, the Shield charm can block any spell for as long as the user can focus their magic into it. Aside from the Killing Curse. If hit by a spell of higher power, or enough spells, it will shatter. Often, it is better to use a counter to the specific spell, because it will drain less magic than the Shield charm.” Hermione replied in a practical manner. The class was silent for a moment. Riddle was surprised she had mentioned the Killing Curse. It was considered poor form to mention the Unforgivables at all. 

“Yes… that is right. Five points to Gryffindor. I hope you all researched well, because today we’re going to practice!” Riddle had seen this coming. Although Caguso was an enthusiastic teacher, his classes had a undeniable rhythm to them that made them dull. Research. Practice. Research. Practice. There was never any thinking on your toes required. 

All the students shuffled into a line. Some students bounced around, excited for some actual action. Others just yawned, still shaking off sleep. His followers had taken their places. One in front, to protect him from having to talk to the other students, and the rest behind. Avery stood in front, his large body discouraging the other students from even trying to speak with Riddle. He noticed that Abraxas stood behind Dolohov. Normally Abraxas would be right next to Riddle. 

Almost unconsciously, Riddle found himself searching for the mass of chestnut curls again. She was ahead of him in line, housed in by Longbottom and Weasley. Nose still buried in that book. Rather cheeky of her to be reading in class. He wondered what it was. 

The Professor waved slow spells at his students as each erected shakey shields with shouted spells. Riddle scoffed. It’s not like  _ Protego _ was a difficult spell. 

That Hermione girl stepped up and Riddle watched with veiled interest. She had been very knowledgeable about the spell, but that didn’t mean she could perform it. 

“Everte Statum!” Caguso yelled. Hermione didn’t raise a shield, however. Slashing her wand horizontally, she caused the spell to veer off course, crashing into a desk next to her. It flew back ten or so feet. “Very good! Fifteen points to Gryffindor. This was a perfect example of how a counter spell to divert the power would work better than a shield. Ms. Wilkins could have even slingshotted my power back to me. Although, that is more difficult to do. We’ll be covering that much later in the year.” 

Riddle gritted his teeth. What was with Caguso today? He was just handing out points for barely passable wandwork? Riddle didn’t care about the House Cup, but it irked him to no end the amount of praise that girl was receiving.

 

Hermione barely paid attention as the rest of the class practiced making shields against Professor Caguso. She generally liked Caguso and enjoyed his class. But today she couldn’t focus. After another fruitless night of searching for the Room of Requirement, Hermione felt like she could scream. She would have killed for the Marauder's Map. If she couldn’t figure out where the room was, then the next step was figuring out those runes. Which she could barely remember. They had looked almost familiar. But Western Runes were far more simplistic in shape than the ones she saw. Now she was scouring through books on Eastern Wizarding traditions and Ancient Runes. These all looked entirely wrong so far. But still, she’d keep digging. 

“Excellent work, class! Now let’s pair up and keep practicing.” The words sounded far away, as Hermione was immersed in her book. So it took a moment for her to process them. Pair up? Hermione glanced up. Shannon was already paired with Daria McKinnen, a Hufflepuff girl with beautiful black hair and an easy smile. Hermione looked around for Harfang. He caught her eye and began to walk over to her, but he stopped and shrugged at her. Confused, Hermione started to move forward. A hand gently descended on her shoulder. She jumped at the sudden contact and whirled around, wand in hand. 

“Ms. Wilkins, I was hoping you’d practice with me.” Riddle stared down at her with unfathomable eyes. 

 

Her shoulder felt so small and fragile under Riddle’s long fingers. He hadn’t removed his hand yet, knowing that his height and proximity had an effect. Normally the effect was blushing cheeks and fluttering lashes.  But here, Riddle could see the flicker of fear crossed Hermione’s face. And it warmed him greatly. 

“No I….” the girl started.

“Ah, Mr. Riddle and Ms. Wilkins. I was hoping you would find each other.” Professor Caguso said, placing a hand on each on of their shoulders. Riddle bristled internally. 

“Yes, Professor. I’m hoping that Ms. Wilkins will be able to show me some of her techniques.” Riddle said politely. Caguso laughed a deep throaty laugh. 

“I bet you’ll be able to show her some too.” Caguso replied. Riddle bowed his head a little to indicate shy thanks at Caguso’s compliment. He glanced over at Wilkins. All the color had drained from her face and her normally pert lips were set in a thin line. 

_ She’s terrified. _ Riddle thought with glee. Pay back for his sleepless night. 

“Go ahead and get started then. I’m looking forward to see how you two challenge each other.” Caguso said, gently pushing them towards the emptied side of the room, where the other students were already practicing.

“Please, Ms Wilkins,” Riddle said flippantly, drawing his wand and twirling it between long fingers. “Don’t go easy on me. I’m here to learn.” She shot him an evil glare and marched away, readying her position. He made a gesture, indicating she should start.

“EXPELLIARMUS!” The girl roared. 

Riddle hadn’t been quite ready and was surprised by the force behind her spell. He gripped his wand tightly and slashed downwards, cutting through the magic she had hurled at him. A rather rudimentary spell. How dull.

_ Locomotor Mortis,  _ Tom thought lazily, directing the curse at Hermione. She must have recognized the wand movements because she blocked it with effort. She watched him for a moment, eyebrows raised in surprise. He grinned at her.  _ That’s right, class pet. I can easily perform silent magic. You don’t stand a chance.  _

_ “Stupify!”  _ Riddle blocked the spell easily. He narrowed his eyes. Had she said that one outloud or just mouthed it? Riddle sent another curse at her, but she batted it away. He could feel some of the other students watching them. 

Riddle watched her lips round through the spell and had his counter up before it had even left her wand. Dueling was pointless if you were just revealing your intentions so easily. He had built this young witch up in his head to be much more powerful than she really was. He was disappointed. Time to end this.

_ Radium Frigus,  _ Tom thought while flicking and swooshing his wand. He concentrated for a moment, putting a lot of power behind the rather simple spell. The girl’s eyes widened as she recognized the wand movements. A fast and thin spear of ice streaked at her. She was able to murmur a quick Dispel Elements charm before it reached her, causing the ice bolt to shatter and shower the room in snow. Students all around them oohh and ahhed. 

Tom on the other hand, was furious. He was going to go easy on her now that she had already disappointed him. He was being generous, and instead thanking him and taking the hit, she had to showboat. He fired off another quick spell at her, not waiting his turn. Hermione intercepted it, slicing through the jinx. She stumbled a bit, meeting his charcoal eyes. He had gone out of turn, and could see that she understood that this wasn’t about practicing Shield charms or counterspells any longer.

_ “Reducto”  _ the girl said quietly, causing Riddle to watch her mouth again. He slapped away her pathetic curse before it had gotten halfway to him. 

Back and forth they sent spells, Riddle’s silent and hers whispered. Neither had raised a shield yet, although she had stumbled with her counters quite a few times. Riddle could see sweat forming on her brow. Although he was focused, Riddle felt no such strain. He smiled smugly.

“ _ Expelliarmus”  _ Riddle watched her lips form. Again with this paltry spell? What a massively disappointing witch Ms. Wilkins was turning out to be. 

This wasn’t the Disarming spell. Riddle realized a moment too late. Crackling blue lightning raced towards him. He barely had time to raise a shield before the Lightning spell crashed into him. Riddle stumbled back, his quickly erected shield barely holding. He could feel the sharp points of lightning sizzling over it as they searched for a weak spot. With concentrated effort Riddle pushed forward, dissolving the Lightning spell. Riddles heartbeat thrummed in his ears and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back a little. Hermione looked even worse for wear, her breath coming in sharp gasps. But still she watched him with hawk like eyes. 

What the hell was that? Then it hit him. Silent magic. Riddle had been right. She wasn’t saying the spells out loud. Instead she was casting them silently. Allowing him to see what she was casting so he’d get complacent. Waiting for the opportunity for him to think she was casting one thing, and silently cast another. Beneath his mounting fury, Riddle was slightly impressed.

Riddle swirled his wand around, causing a thick fog to overtake the room. Those who weren’t already watching, turned at this point. He saw panic fill the girl’s eyes before she was swallowed up by the fog. 

_ Dolofuga Captis  _ Riddle thought, tapping his wand to the ground twice in quick succession. The floor quickly developed several jagged openings that snapped and snarled. The maws made no noise other than the stone grinding open and snapping shut with great force. The mouth-like traps were large, about a foot in size each, but they moved quickly from his wand in her direction. This was it. He waited for her cry of pain. Getting stuck in one of these traps tended to break legs.

“ _ Meteolojinx Recanto”  _ A scratchy voice called out. 

The fog cleared quickly. Riddle licked his lips in anticipation. He looked forward to her tear streaked face. Maybe she’d even be trying to pull her leg out. That would be a fun sight. But instead, the girl had managed to summon a desk that she now crouched on. The desk stood crookledy, the legs splintered and stuck firmly into the jagged ground.

“That’s enough!” Professor Caguso called out. Neither student took their eyes off of each other. The room was silent, shocked at what they had just witnessed. Riddle snapped out of it first. He bowed to the girl and quickly put his wand away. She was no threat to him. 

“I think we got carried away.” Riddle said sheepishly, pushing the hair out of his eyes and back into place.

“I’d say so.” Caguso said, eyeballing the two of them. Riddle saw Malfoy move as if he was going to help the girl down. Riddle shot him a warning look and Malfoy stopped short. Riddle sauntered over himself. He held out his hand. The girl glanced up at him, her large honey brown eyes assessing him. After a moment, she delicately placed one shaking hand into his and jumped off the desk before releasing his hand quickly. 

“I hope I didn’t hurt you, Ms. Wilkins,” Riddle said smoothly. 

“Nor I, you.” She shot back, the challenge clear in her voice. He bristled and found himself smiling at the challenge. 


	9. Chapter IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello World. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. I appreciate the comments. :D

A haphazard smile graced Hermione’s lips as she trudged back across the yard to Hogwarts. The past few weeks had rolled by smoothly. At first, summer warmth and autumn coolness had battled, but eventually autumn won out and brought a delightful crispness to the air. Hermione allowed herself a deep breath and enjoyed the moment.

She hadn’t felt this peaceful since arriving back in the year 1944. Seeing Hagrid for tea brought with it a sense of normalcy that Hermione had desperately been missing. His face was free of his trademark beard and he didn’t have so many laugh lines around his eyes yet, but he was Hagrid all the same. Hermione held in her hands a lopsided loaf of pumpkin bread to prove it. 

Another bonus was that Riddle hadn’t bothered Hermione again since the Defense Against the Dark Arts incident. In fact, he hadn’t even bothered to look in her direction since then. Whenever Hermione thought about that incident, a sharp stab of panic would prick her in the stomach before spreading out to the rest of her body. So she didn’t think of it. There were too many other things to worry about that Hermione knew that she couldn’t live in constant fear. At least that’s what she told herself. But now, tension and fear once again began to weigh on Hermione’s shoulders as she allowed herself to think about that duel between her and Riddle. It had scared her. Despite the claps on the back and the cheers from her classmates, the duel had been a cold hard slap of reality for Hermione. She wasn’t as strong as Riddle. No one was. Her scheme to outsmart him had failed miserably. A trick that wouldn’t work again. Riddle now knew for certain that Hermione could use silent magic. And what what that spell that Riddle had used at the end? It had been terrifying. The image of the floor cracking apart and devouring her had now been added to her already long list of nightmares. 

Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek in frustration. She had never seen Voldemort or any of his followers use that spell before. It had obviously been powerful dark magic and it was bothering her to no end that she hadn’t recognized it. Nor had her research turned anything up. None of her research was going well, Hermione had to admit to herself. The previous serenity she had experienced from tea with Hagrid was drying up fast.

“Ms. Wilkins?” A kindly voice drew her out of her thoughts. 

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore.” Hermione nodded her head in greetings. She hadn’t realized she had already made it back to the castle’s doors. Dumbledore’s face was arranged in a seemingly easy smile. Today he wore sky blue robes that offset his auburn hair nicely. Hermione noticed that the clouds stitched into the robes moved in a slow lazy pattern, as if pushed by some magical breeze. 

“I was hoping to speak to you, for a moment. To catch up.” Dumbledore asked. 

“Of course.” Hermione said, waiting for him to lead the way. They didn’t speak until both were settled in his office. Fawkes snoozed on his perch, his feathers glimmering in the afternoon sun.

“Would you like some tea, Ms. Granger?” Dumbledore asked politely. Hermione nodded mutely as a cup of lemon tea plopped softly into her palms. It had been over a month since she had heard someone use her real name. It was both jarring and a relief to hear it. 

_ Hermione Granger. I am Hermione Granger.  _ She thought to herself. 

“I hadn’t realized you were acquainted with Rubeus Hagrid.” Dumbledore said. His tone was always mild, but Hermione could detect something more. Poking curiosity. And perhaps suspicion. 

Hermione shrugged her shoulders loosely. She wanted to tell Dumbledore that her and Hagrid had been friends in the future. Assuage his concern. She knew she couldn’t though. 

“I met him in the courtyard after Herbology a few weeks ago.” Hermione explained, keen to look anywhere but Dumbledore’s gaze. Hermione wondered if Hagrid had told Dumbledore how she had nearly leapt into his arms. 

“Would you like a slice?” Hermione asked, trying to break the strain. She gestured to the uneven loaf of bread that was wrapped in a towel on her lap. She thought she might have seen Dumbledore shudder and had to bite back an unexpected laugh.

“No, thank you.” Dumbledore took a sip of his tea and let out a small satisfied sigh. “Now, I wanted to ask if you had had any luck with finding your room.” He asked, fixing his clear blue eyes on Hermione. Hermione exhaled loudly before she dug around in her bag.

“Professor, if I may…” Hermione offered Dumbledore a roll of parchment. With a flick of his wrist, all the cluttered odds and ends on Dumbledore’s desk parted like the Red Sea. With deft hands, Dumbledore unrolled the paper. On it, Hermione had constructed a highly detailed map of the school, marking all the places she had already tried to open the room, her next potentials, prefects routes and schedules, as well as the names of books she had referenced. Dumbledore raised his considerable eyebrows.

“I really am trying, Professor. I have yet to find any indication of where the Room of Requirement is or could be. I’ve filled the map out quite a bit more than when I saw you last. I started in places that I felt might be good places for a room to hide. Based on potential room size, foot traffic, and of course the need for a wall big enough to accomodate the rather large doors.” she gestured to a few spots on different floors of her map. All were marked in red with small notes. “None of those panned out. Next I looked up past references to the room, hoping that the locations presented in my research would indicate a pattern of its appearance locations. However, research on the room has not beared much fruit. And I could find no pattern. So now, I’m simply starting from bottom to top.” Hermione scraped her fingers through her curls in frustration. Dumbledore didn’t reply, instead quietly sipped his tea and looked over her work.

“This is very thorough, Ms. Granger. I am impressed.” Dumbledore replied after some time. 

“Oh, well thank you, Professor.” Hermione replied warmly. A blush tinged her cheeks. She couldn’t help it. Praise was her weak spot. 

“But I still haven’t found it.” Hermione said, shaking the praise away. “And the longer I spend here, the more things I fear I will affect. Is there anything you could do to help?”

“Hmm…” Dumbledore steepled his fingers and contemplated. “It it said that the Room of Requirement show’s itself to those in need.”  Hermione waited for him to say more, but Dumbledore didn’t.

“Yes, I know that, Professor.” Hermione replied. Still no more reply. “I have tried asking for a number of different thing at each location. If you look in the bottom right, you can see the script of requests that I use per location.” 

Dumbledore glanced down at her notes, but shook his head. 

“Perhaps there are some at Hogwarts that are already in need.” Dumbledore said. Hermione narrowed her eyes on her map. 

“I see.” She replied, thinking on his words. It was likely that a student somewhere right now in the school that had used the Room in desperation before. But whether or not that student even knew what the Room could do, let alone could point Hermione in the right direction. Well, that was an entirely different beast. It was true that in her fifth year, there were many that knew of and used the Room of Requirement. But that was a necessity, as all of the DA needed to gather in secret. There was no such need in 1944.

“I do not wish to poke around with lots of questions and jeopardize anything.” Hermione said finally. 

“I agree. You’d have to be clever about it, Ms. Granger.” Dumbledore replied. They sat in silence for a moment longer. Dumbledore rolled up her map with a snap, drawing Hermione out of her thoughts. Setting down her teacup, Hermione stood and reached for the map. 

“Professor?” She asked hesitantly when Dumbledore didn’t immediately let go of his end. 

“It would be a wonderful and terrible power. To know what the future entails.” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. Hermione swallowed thickly.

“Which is why I must get back quickly.” She replied, eyebrows drawing downward. He watched her for a second longer, before releasing the map.

“I agree wholeheartedly, Ms. Granger.” 

 

Hermione stalked the hallways as quietly as she could. The dungeons were dark during the day, and nearly pitch black at night. Her hand gripped her leather side bag. Inside was her detailed map of the area, a few rough renditions of the runes she had doodled, along with some blank parchment and spare quills. She had also brought book on time travel that she had already read three times. It did not answer any real questions, but the author had managed to pose some very interesting concepts. Once this was all over, maybe Hermione would write her own book, she considered with only mild enthusiasm.

Although she had diligently marked down and memorized the paths she knew already some prefects took, it never hurt to be cautious. She could use a Disillusionment spell, however felt fairly confident that she wouldn’t run into anyone. 

_ Overly confident _ she amended as Hermione nearly rounded the corner into a group of Slytherins. They all had their backs to her and were moving in the opposite direction. Heart slamming into her ribs, Hermione snuck her head around the edge of the wall. Instantly, she recognized the soft white blonde of Abraxas. 

What was he doing out of bed? Hermione wondered to herself. But this crowd of boys didn’t look like they were up to usual teenage shinanigens. Hermione now thought she recognized the other two as Dolohov and Avery. 

“Find… … that….” Abraxas said, his low voice barely audible down the dim hall. 

“Ask….” Avery replied. Hermione wished suddenly for a pair of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears. After a moment of hesitation, Hermione decided to champion her inner Harry and follow. Scooting along the wall as quietly as she cool, Hermione trailed the trio. She suspected they were heading back to the Slytherin Common room. But what were they doing out if it in the first place?

“That won’t get it until Christmas, he wants it before then.” Dolohov said, cleary displeased. Abraxas ran a hand through his thick hair.

“Then we’ll have to use more drastic measures, won’t we?” He asked. There was a playful tone to his voice that contrasted against Dolohov’s strained voice. Hermione snuck a little closer. The boys all still wore their school robes, but even from down the hall Hermione could smell the sour stink of sweat. Had they been exercising? 

“You better watch yourself, Malfoy.” Avery said in a low voice. 

“Oh… that so, Avery?” Malfoy’s tone had gained an edge. 

“You don’t seem to be much of a favorite anymore.” Dolohov said with a sneer. It was then that Hermione noticed the slight limp.

“No one is a favorite right now.” Avery replied matter-of-factly.

“So the sooner we get him the things he needs, the happier he’ll be.” Malfoy replied. 

“Better for us.” Avery agreed.

“I can only think of one thing that will make him happy at this point. Dolohov snickered.

“Please, stop.” Malfoy scoffed. “He’ll be happy when I –” 

The words cut off as a large thin hand clamped around Hermione’s mouth. Another wrapping around her waist. Before she had even had time to register that she was being restrained, Hermione was being released. Shoved more like. She stumbled into a desk, her hip cracking against the wood painfully. Hermione had her wand in hand even before brushing her hair out of her face. 

Riddle. Of course it was. He stood with his back against the classroom door he had pushed her through. His wand tapped his thigh in a mindless rhythm. 

“Out past curfew and eavesdropping. That’s at least ten points from Gryffindor, Ms. Wilkins.” He said tepidly. Hermione bit her lip. She hated how at ease he was and how much even that could terrify her. Still, she would not be cowed. Not by this or any form of Voldemort.

“Of course. I’ll be on my way, then.” Hermione said. But she did not move. Nor did she put away her wand. Something felt off about Riddle. Although his robes were pressed and his hair neat there was an aura about Riddle that felt dishevelled. Hermione spied her bag slung casually over his shoulder. He must have grabbed it off her shoulder. That certainly wasn’t good.

“This is the second time that I’ve caught you out past curfew this semester, Ms. Wilkins.” Riddle replied. She dared to glance up into his eyes. The room was dark, with only the moonlight attempting to find its way in through the basement-like window wells. But his eyes were darker. There were dark smudges beneath them. 

“What are you doing down here?” He asked. When Hermione didn’t immediately answer, he took a step forward. Hermione took an involuntary step back, hitting the desk again. 

“I got a little lost.” Hermione lied. “I was going to ask Abraxas when you pulled me in here.” 

“Abraxas? You two have certainly gotten close.” Riddle scoffed. Hermione touched the desk, looking for the edge so she could discretely scoot around. Riddle took another step forward. Still slowly tapping his wand against his thigh. 

“Nev-Harfang is waiting up for me.” Hermione said, never taking her eyes off of Riddle. If possible they managed to darken further. She looked down at his wand. “So… I really need to get back to the Common Room.” Hermione’s voice lifted in fear making it sound like a question.

“Harfang is waiting for you?” His normally clipped tone lifted, mocking her own. Her eyes snapped to his own. There was no good natured humor there. There was nothing there. 

Normally Hermione would have gotten angry at his tone. Shot back a retort. But fear had managed to drain any and all moxie. Hermione felt like she was staring down a snake that was on the edge of striking. If she made any sudden or wrong moves, surely she would get bit. Hermione’s eyes dropped back to his wand. Still slowly tapping away. 

“Who are you?” He asked lowly. Hermione glanced between his wand and the door. She might be able to make a run for it. “I asked you who you were.” His tone was quieter. Deadlier.

Hermione moved quickly, her Mary Jane’s sliding against the cold stone floor. An arm slammed down next to her, blocking her path before she could even get going.  Hermione felt her knee knock into her own book bag which hung from his shoulder. He was too close now. His threatening frame nearly pushing against her. His left arm barricading her exit. 

“Tell me who you are. You’re working against me with him, aren’t you? No normal student could duel like that.” Riddle demanded. He sounded beyond paranoid.

_ I’ve gotta get out of here!  _ Hermione thought desperately. She kept her arm low, but turned her wand upward. 

“Expelliarmus!” Hermione yelled desperately, fear buzzing too loudly in her head for her to be able to use silent magic. Before she was even finished with the incantation, Riddle snatched her wrist and aimed her spell to crash against the wall. A rack of herbs blew into splinters, causing glass bottles to shatter against the ground. Riddle ripped her wand out of her hand and threw it behind him. Hermione could hear it clatter against the ground. His cold fingers encircled her wrist, causing Hermione to yank back in a sudden panic.

“Let go of me!” 

His other hand gripped Hermione’s jaw. She could feel the hilt of his wand pressing into her jaw bone. And the ice cold metal of the damn ring digging into her flesh. A horcrux pressed against her face. It made Hermione want to vomit. She raised her hand up against his chest, trying to push him away. But he pressed closer.

“Who are you?” He asked. Hermione took in his face. It wasn’t just smudges beneath his eyes, but deep wells. It looked like Riddle hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks. Had he created another horcrux? Something had certainly happened. And he was taking his anger and paranoia out on Hermione. She suddenly wasn’t sure she’d survive the night. Hermione pulled harder at her wrist. Pushed harder against his chest. Tried to wiggle her head jaw out of his grasp.

“Who are you?” He demanded again. Hermione could feel her heart beating so fast it was nearly humming. She was sure Riddle could feel it too. 

“What do you want from me?” She asked desperately, meeting his charcoal gaze. She felt his grip on her jaw tighten for a moment. Then his lips descended possessively on hers. A sharp shock rolled through Hermione’s body. She didn’t have time to process the action before it deepened. He pushed his body into hers. Hermione could hear the far away rattle as his wand hit the floor. His hand moved from it’s bruising grip on her jaw into her hair. His thumb scrapping along the side of her throat making her shiver involuntarily. His other hand released her wrist to explore her side, pulling on her robes, as if they could get closer. She felt his tongue sweep hotly against her lips, bidding them to open. 

Instead Hermione shoved as hard as she could against his chest. Riddle didn’t budge much but it seemed to snap him out of it. She stared up at him, her breath coming in short bursts, as if her body couldn’t pull in enough air. He stared back down at her, a look of bewilderment on his face, hand still tangled in her hair. He pulled his hand quickly from her hair, causing Hermione to wince.

“Wilkins…” He started, voice husky. But Hermione didn’t waste any time scrambling for the door. She scooped her wand up on the way and didn’t stop running until she had locked herself in a bathroom stall safely back in the Gryffindor girl’s tower. She ran her fingers repeatedly over her lips. 

What the hell was that? 


	10. Chapter X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for reading. All the comments fun to read a mean a lot. Sorry I'm slow.

The sun weakly filtered through a thick layer of clouds, trying to brighten the cold autumn morning. The Great Hall was mostly empty, only the rare early risers just starting to trickle in. Riddle inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma of his morning coffee before taking a sip. He hoped the caffeine would help sharpen his senses. His head throbbed persistently with lack of sleep. A book sat open in front of him, but Riddle’s thoughts lay elsewhere.

He had sat in that classroom for a long while after Wilkins had rushed out, trying to understand his own actions. Initially Riddle had been mortified. Then angry at Wilkins. It was her fault he was so frayed in the first place. Since he had met her, nothing had gone right. Normally he was a model of self restraint. Rather than dwell on it, Riddle had dug furiously through her bag, trying to unravel something. Anything. The mystery. Her.

Even before seeing her last night, Riddle had been cross. Abraxas had failed him. A distressing recurrence as of late. He had been punished accordingly and promised Riddle that he would get him the supplies requested in a much more timely manner. The words had not eased Riddle’s anger or Malfoy’s punishment.

Then, seeing the dungeon’s dull light bouncing off of Wilkins’ curls had been too much.  Riddle had worked himself up into a lather. He had been convinced that she was working for Dumbledore, trying to catch him in some sort of wrongdoing. Riddle knew that he was too careful for the old man to know the actual depth of his sins. But he wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore to hire Wilkins a spy. Dumbledore must know that Riddle intended to ask for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and he’d rather die than let Dippet give it to him. So here is Wilkins to watch and wait for Riddle to trip up. Even to push and prod him to do so. Why else would she defy him so often?

The part he couldn’t explain was the press of his lips against hers. The way he had threaded his finger through her soft curls or pulled her small body against his. Embarrassment coursed through him. An emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time. It angered him that that girl made him feel it now. But there was something else. Last night had stirred something in him that he hadn’t even realized lay dormant.

In the end Riddle decided to interpret his actions as a tactic. Intimidation. Usually Riddle stuck to the cleanliness of magic. Physical intimidation was so plain. Any brainless thug could punch someone. Casting a spell on someone, feeling the power pour through your veins, and watching the pain and fear fill theirs. That it was much more interesting than knocking a tooth out. So why did it feel so good to intimidate Wilkins physically? To feel her pressed against him. The warmth of her skin and the smell of her hair...

“Morning Riddle.” Avery sat across from Riddle, his large frame settling onto the bench. He wore his small wire reading glasses and thumbed opened a well worn book. Avery began to read wordlessly, content with just the greetings. A surprisingly intellectual young man, Riddle was glad for Avery’s company. It had managed to draw him out of his strange thoughts.

“Avery.” Riddle responded, flipping a page of his own book. Or rather, Wikins’ book. It had taken him a while to unscramble the charm that she had cast on the map. A smile had cracked Riddle’s tired face when he finally did. So studious and thorough. It was immediately clear what she had been looking for. Why the girl was skulking around in the dungeons at night. The Come and Go Room. Why she was looking for it, Riddle had some thoughts.

A few other scraps of paper had also been scrambled, but he hadn’t been able to untangle their charms. Instead of decoding them, he had  triggered some safety feature that Wilkins had worked in, causing the pieces of paper burst into flames. It had taken some quick thinking and wandwork to make sure that everything close hadn’t gotten burnt to a crisp.

Riddle hated to be impressed.

Lazily, he looked through the book that was in her bag. He had actually read it before and found the book to be a waste of time, which was amusing considering it’s topic. Pure “what if” nonsense on time travel. Now though, he moved through it with more care, checking for notes or clues. Perhaps she had found something he hadn’t. Unlikely. However, the book, the map, the self immolated scrolls, all of it was very telling.

Whether from her own discretion or through the bidding of Dumbledore, Riddle was more sure than ever that Wilkins was watching him. Somehow clued into his next step. And therefore she was threat. Now, Riddle had to figure out how he wanted to proceed.

  
  


Hermione dumped her supplies onto her desk, silently thankful that she only had one class on Fridays. Forgoing breakfast, Hermione had gone straight from the Common Room to Transfiguration. She had thought about skipping class, but decided against it. Although she dreaded seeing Riddle, Hermione wasn’t the type to be bullied out of learning. Besides, any horrors that Riddle had planned, he certainly wasn’t going to carry them out in the middle of class in front of Dumbledore. No, it was good for Hermione to stay in public places. Never get caught alone.

She mourned the loss of her bag, but just had to hope that Riddle had done a poor job tampering with her charms, and accidentally set all her research aflame. If she was really lucky, maybe he would have singed off his eyebrows as well.

 _Too good to be true._ Hermione thought as Riddle entered the classroom, eyebrows dark and intact. He didn’t glance her way, instead choosing a seat on the far side of the room. Abraxas followed him in, looking worn. He looked how Hermione felt.

Abraxas caught her eye and gave a slight nod. Hermione raised her hand in return. She wondered if he knew of last night. What Riddle did to her. Perhaps he even gloated to his little posse in the common room. Embarrassment and anger flushed Hermione’s face. What did it matter what those proto Death Eaters thought anyway? Why Riddle did it, Hermione couldn’t even begin to imagine. Intimidation? She didn’t want to think of it. It had taken her a while to fall asleep, her dreams haunted by the face of Voldemort. His lipless mouth pressing against hers, red eyes peering into her own.

“Hermione.” Abraxas’ deep voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Hermione could feel the curls bounce off her face as her head shot up.

“Abraxas.” she replied, genuinely confused. She risked a quick glance over at Riddle. He seemed to be reviewing today’s materials.

“Did you lose your bag? Riddle told me he found this and I recognized it as yours” Abraxas held up her simple brown saddle bag. It certainly looked like hers. Hermione frowned and reached for it.

“It looks like mine.” she replied slowly. She wanted desperately to look inside, but wanted to wait until there was less attention on her.  

“Great! I’m glad it’s found its way home.” A smile warmed Abraxas’ face. Hermione felt her own mouth curling into a smile. His grin certainly was infectious.

“Yes, thank you. I owe you.” She turned back to her work, eyes roaming over her Transfiguration essay one last time. She hadn’t spent nearly enough time to focusing on it, and although it was good was it good enough...

“Er… Hermione…” Abraxas trailed off. She looked up, surprised that he was still there.

“Yes?” She asked after a beat. A strange feathery feeling had taken hold in her gut.

“This weekend is the first trip to Hogsmeade.” He said, and suddenly Hermione knew exactly where this was going. Her palms began to sweat a little.

“It is.”

“I was wondering if you would want to get a Butterbeer with me?” He asked finally. Pink tinged his cheeks, and suddenly he reminded her overwhelmingly of Ron. It made her feel a little sick and dizzy.

“Oh… uh…” She trailed off. This couldn’t be ethical, could it? She was already concerned with how much she had mucked about in time. Going on a date with Malfoy’s grandfather would be some sort of icing on the cake.

“She would be delighted.” Another voice finished for her. Hermione snapped her head to see a shock of red hair and a devious smile.

 _Shannon!_ Hermione cursed.

“Really?” Abraxas asked, relief settling into his features.

“I just wasn’t planning on going this trip.” Hermione bit out.

“Didn’t you say you’d come help me pick out a birthday gift for my little brother?” Shannon asked.

“Oh…yeah.” Had Hermione said that?

“Well, then, I’ll see you there?” Abraxas asked again.

“It’s a date!” Shannon replied cheerily in Hermione’s place.

“Great!” He smiled.

“If you would take your seat, Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore’s voice cut through the nonsense, silencing conversations.

“What are you doing?” Hermione whispered furiously to Shannon, who just shrugged, bright eyes glittering with mischief. Curse the whole Weasley line!

“He’s cute. It’s just some butterbeers. There’s no harm.”

There was no harm?! Hermione turned sharply toward the front. She could see Shannon from the corner of her eye, watching her with faint amusement. She tried to catch Hermione’s attention, but Hermione refused to acknowledge her.

After a moment, Hermione felt parchment poke her elbow, persistently. She snatched it up, intending to just throw it away, but curiosity got the better of her. Unfolding it slyly Hermione glanced down at Shannon’s looping penmanship.

_It’s okay to have fun._

 

After class had ended, Hermione had packed up quickly, before Shannon could try to lessen her anger with sweet words. She had, of course, gone straight to the library and found a secluded spot in the back of some older, dustier stacks. She needed to go through her bag. See what sort of fresh hell Riddle had left for her. Surely he had unraveled her charms with ease.

Sitting down with a sigh, Hermione considered her friend’s words. _It’s okay to have fun_.

If anyone deserved a little fun, it was Hermione. She had already gone through so much. She had given up years of her life to make sure the world was safe. Fought a war. Lost friends and loved ones. Been spit on by both sides. Tortured. And what was her reward? Her boyfriend dumping her and getting flung back in time. Where she got to experience the entire mess again.

Hermione brushed angry tear away and slapped her cheeks lightly. It was better to not  think about it. There was no use wallowing, now. When there was so much left to do. When she got back to her time, she’d have a nice cry.

Opening up her bag, Hermione dumped everything out onto the table and examined each piece thoroughly. The quills and spare parchment looked untouched. Her book did as well. However, the scraps of paper with her rune scrawlings were gone. Hermione chewed on her lip. Had he decoded her charm, or had they burnt up? It was hard to say. She prayed for the latter. Although Hermione didn’t know what the symbols meant, that didn’t mean Riddle didn’t.

She had left her map for last. It sat rolled up, looking deceptively plain and uninteresting. Unrolling it, Hermione could feel her stomach drop. He had decoded it. All her neat notes and clever annotations were out in the open for the world to see. There was one extra note at the bottom that made pushed her unease over the edge. Neat looping penmanship, that she had not made.

_I know what you’re looking for. Meet me in the dungeons at Midnight._


	11. Chapter XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's been a while. Extra long chapter. Thank you for reading!

“Please tell me you’re not wearing that?” Shannon eyed Hermione with blatant disapproval.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?” Hermione glanced down at her outfit. A neat skirt with a button down shirt. Hermione refused to be embarrassed by her lack of style. In truth, Hermione had come to 1944 with nothing. Anything she possessed, she owed to Dumbledore’s good graces. Her limited clothing options were often obscured by her school robes. 

“It’s just not very playful. You look like you’re studying in the library, not going on a date.”

“I’d rather be going to the library.” Hermione replied dryly. Shannon paid her friend no mind, instead she tapped thoughtfully on her lips while staring into her own trunk. The motion reminded Hermione of the night Riddle had trapped her in the classroom. The way he had been tapping his wand against his leg. A shiver rush up her spine. Had that really only been a few days ago? It felt like ages.

She touched her lips thoughtfully. Riddle was an enigma. At times, he acted exactly as Hermione had expected, arrogant and manipulative. Everything around him tightly controlled, from his professors all the way down to the way he wore his expressions. That, Hermione had predicted. Riddle’s use of physical force, on the other hand, had come as a total surprise to her. A  Cruciatus curse would have been far more anticipated and wecomed than what had actually happened. 

Both her and Riddle knew that he could best her in a duel. She had been struggling to keep up in DADA, sweat staining her forehead and her breath coming in puffs. Meanwhile, it had been nothing more that a game to Riddle. Cat, meet mouse. It was frustrating and terrifying, but a truth that Hermione would have to accept. If she tried to fight him one on one, Hermione would lose. 

Which brought her back to her first question; why had Riddle used physical force when he hadn’t needed to? He hadn’t… he hadn’t really wanted to kiss her, right? That had been some sort of… show of power? It was so beyond the pale that  _ Lord Voldemort _ had kissed her that her brain struggled to form the thoughts. The words just didn’t sound right together. Hermione didn’t pretend to know how the man thought, nor did she really want to figure it out. 

Although she did her best to avoid thinking about it, Hermione was still painfully mortified at her first thoughts as the incident occured. She had been sure that Riddle was going to kill her. So very sure. He had been a mess, screaming paranoid delusions while brandishing his wand. So when, instead of killing Hermione in a brutal horrific way, he chose to press his lips against her own, the link between Hermione’s will to live and the logic center of her brain disconnected for the briefest of moments. Her first thought hadn’t been pure revulsion. Instead Hermione had thought, “Oh, this isn’t too bad.” 

“You thinking about kissing someone?” Shannon’s teasing snapped Hermione out of her thoughts. She lowered her hand, realizing that she was still touching her lips. 

“Not at all” Hermione stammered, heat flooding her cheeks. 

“Mhmm” Shannon said, clearly not believing Hermione. “He’s quite dashing, but don’t kiss on the first date. You have to make the ones you like ache for it a little.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was disappointing, although expected, to hear a strong woman like Shannon display such archaic line of reasoning. If both parties wished to kiss, more power to them. 

“What about the ones you don’t like? Do they have to wait on the same arbitrary time table?” Hermione asked, a smirk curling the edge of her mouth.

“No, you don’t have to wait with those ones.” Shannon replied matter-of-factly.

“What?” Hermione was slightly taken aback by the statement.

“You don’t have to wait to kiss the ones you just want to kiss for kissing sake.” Shannon turned to her, blue eyes twinkling. 

“That seems hypocritical.” 

“Why? The point of making the good ones wait is to keep them on the hook while you get to know each other. The others? Why bother? You don’t want to get to know them anyway.”

“This is all… very surprising to me.” Hermione said slowly. She was suddenly quite sure where Ginny had gotten her firecracker personality and odd logic from. 

“Do you have multiple someones you want to kiss? I honestly didn’t think you’d be the type to be interested on that sort of thing.” Shannon asked. She watched Hermione with a bemused look on her freckled face.

“Who wouldn’t be interested in kissing?” Hermione asked indignantly. “But no. There’s no one, singular or plural, that I want to kiss.” Hermione chewed on her lip.

“Not even Abraxas?” Shannon asked. Always one to do due diligence, Hermione genuinely thought about it. He was attractive. Abraxas spoke with such animated character that she felt as if she could watch him talk for hours. His hands were rough but well taken care of. Hermione hadn’t even realized that was something she liked. He was clever, too. Offering up ideas that pushed Hermione to think outside of the box. She liked that the most. But that didn’t mean she wanted to kiss him. Hermione sighed. 

It was true, Abraxas was good looking, well spoken, and so far, a gentleman to Hermione. But she also knew he was a Death Eater. And there was no getting around that. 

“I don’t want to kiss Abraxas.” Hermione said finally. Shannon simply smiled a knowing smile and held up a dress. 

“What is that?” Hermione asked.

“I’m lending you a dress. It’s not often we get to wear clothes outside of our school uniforms. And I want to see you in something nice.” Hermione sighed, but didn’t wish to fight. If she had learned anything from similar interactions with Ginny, it was a losing battle anyway.

Shannon’s dress swam on Hermione, but it was nothing that a little household magic couldn’t fix. By the end, the tea dress fit snugly around her trim waist. The grey fabric looked mature, but the white trim and white buttons added back a flair of youth. A pair of completely impractical peep toe heels adorned her feet. With the helping hand of magic, Shannon had even managed to wrangle Hermione’s hair into an updo of pinned waves. 

Hermione’s eyes drank in the odd sight. She looked exactly like one of the models from the old magazines her mother had lying around the house. Hermione used to flip through them as a child. The daily life of a bygone era had mesmerized her. 

“You look too stuffy.” Shannon observed. 

“These shoes are not stuffy.” Hermione responded. Her feet already hurt. Shannon didn’t reply, instead clicking her tongue in thought. 

“I’ve got it!” She said excitedly. Digging through a bag, Shannon pulled out a small tube.

“Lipstick?” Hermione asked.

“Ruby red lipstick.” Shannon replied triumphantly. Hermione sighed and snatched the tube from Shannon. The sooner this was over, the better. She could just wipe it off before seeing Abraxas anyway. 

“That looks fantastic. I want to wear some too!” Shannon exclaimed grabbing the lipstick back. This red lipstick set off the red of Shannon’s hair and looked fantastic.Hermione looked back at herself.

“I feel like I look like a Stepford Wife.” she grumbled.

“What’s that?” Shannon asked. The book wasn’t out until sometime in the seventies, Hermione remembered.

“Nothing.” 

#

Shopping with Shannon turned out to be quite enjoyable. The Mid October air was sharp, but Shannon had lent Hermione a peacoat that protected against it nicely. Hermione adored fall. The changing of the leaves and chilling of the air appealed to her more than the sticky heat of summer. Besides, autumn meant school was back in session. 

As they paraded through town, Hermione wondered if the townsfolk hated it Hogmeade days. Their normally quiet town suddenly overrun with energetic students. She certainly saw more Hogwarts robes than not, here at the town square. 

“I hope your brother likes it.” Hermione said as they walked back out into the cold after finally choosing a birthday gift. It had taken a lot of time, lunch long past. 

“He better. It cost a lot.” Shannon said grimacing. “He’s been getting into Wizard Chess recently, so I’m sure he’ll be excited to have his own board. I don’t see the appeal.”

“Me neither.” Hermione admitted. Wizard Chess had always been more of Ron’s thing. 

“Do you have time to get a butterbeer before meeting up with Abraxas?” 

“I’m meeting up with Abraxas for a butterbeer.”

“So an early one will loosen you up.” Shannon reasoned. Honestly, Shannon was probably right in this case. Hermione was dreading the encounter. 

“Alright then.” Hermione acquiesced and they trudged over to The Three Broomsticks. Warm air wafted through the opened door and Hermione was suddenly eager to get inside. When had it gotten so cold? She was sure her cheeks matched the bright red of her lips. Shannon flagged down the barman for two butterbeers. Despite knowing on a logical level that there was no way it could be Madam Rosmerta, it was still odd to see a hulking man with a booming mustache rather than the smaller woman. 

The tavern was very much unchanged. Wooden rafters were bare against a whitewashed ceiling. Low tables were crammed into every available space, and wizards of all kinds were crammed into the tables. Hermione spied many Hogwarts students, cupping large mugs to warm their hands back up. There was also a fair share of older folk, throwing back harder liquor. And sometimes, a mix of the two, Hermione noticed. 

“Here.” Shannon drew Hermione’s attention away from the odd pair she had been observing to hand her a foaming and warm stein of butterbeer. Abraxas’ white blonde hair was unmistakable. He had it covered beneath the hood of a cloak, but it shone like a beacon light to Hermione. Across from Abraxas was a man that Hermione had never seen before. He kept his cloak up as well, but looked too old to be a student. 

“Should we find somewhere to sit?” Shannon asked. 

“I think I see a table over this way.” Hermione didn’t wait, instead turning and twisting through the maze of tables to get as close as she dared. She needed to know what Malfoy was discussing with that man. She sat down a table away, Abraxas’ back to her. Shannon plunked down a few moments later. 

“Spend a moment thinking about us tall people, ‘Mione! I can’t squeeze between tables as easy as you can.” Shannon complained. Hermione nodded, trying to fill their conversation with pantomime rather than words. 

“Something like that is going to be hard to get, young master.” the man’s voice was oddly prim. It evoked an image of soft skin and wet eyes. Both of which, Hermione was sure wasn’t under that hulking cloak. 

“Which is why I’m paying you so well.” Malfoy replied. 

“I’m going to need more, young master. It isn’t something would be easily overlooked. Someone will notice that it’s missing.”

“How much more?” Malfoy sighed. 

“How’s your butterbeer?” 

“What?” asked Hermione after a moment, her eyes snapping to Shannon, who eyed her with interest.

“How’s your butterbeer? Have you ever had one before?” Hermione stared down at her cooling drink. Hermione Wilkins hadn’t had it before, Hermione decided. She took a small swallow, the sweet flavor coated her tongue pleasantly. 

“It’s delicious.” she replied honestly. Shannon smiled at her taking an unladylike gulp of her own. 

“I’ve tried to make butterbeer before.” Shannon admitted, flicking a loose piece of hair out of eyes. “But it didn’t turn out. I think the problem was…” Hermione nodded her head, but her attention slid back to Malfoy and the mysterious stranger.

They were shaking hands and standing. Transaction over. Hermione chewed on her lip in frustration. Ultimately, it wasn’t any of her business. It’s not as if she could change anything in the past anyway. It was just her curiosity and sense of justice working overtime, as they often did. A trait her and Harry shared. She gripped the handle of the butterbeer, forcing herself to stay seated as the two left the tavern. Her every instinct told her to give chase and spy. But no. There was nothing she could do about it anyway. Both great and terrible things had to remain unchanged by her presence. That didn’t help her curiosity though. 

Malfoy walked back in twenty or so minutes later, blowing into his hands, trying to thaw them back out. 

“Oh, he’s here.” Shannon spotted him and waved. A handsome and genuine smile stretched over his face.

“It’s good to see you, Shannon. Hermione, you look… very nice.” Abraxas’ roving eyes and soft smile indicated that he thought she looked better than nice. Even though she was on high alert, Hermione felt a blush heat her neck. 

“Malfoy, you’re so much more likeable off the Quidditch field.” Shannon said sweetly. Abraxas laughed, his hair falling into his eyes. Hermione decided to stare into her empty stein rather than look at him. 

“Well, I better get back to Hogwarts. Got to wrap this gift.” Shannon stood and gathered her things. “Hermione…” Shannon held out her hand and Hermione took it, confused at the gesture. 

“Have fun.” Shannon said with a wink before strolling out of the Three Broomsticks. Opening her hand, a dry smile pushed her cheeks. Shannon had left her the tube of red lipstick.

“So… are you still up for a butterbeer?” Abraxas asked as he slid into Shannon’s empty seat. If he was nervous about how close they were to where he had been seated with the mysterious stranger, he didn’t show it. 

“Perhaps.” Hermione started, an idea forming in her head. “How would you feel about Fire Whiskey instead?” 

#

“You’re really good at drinking.” Abraxas admitted, tossing back his fourth glass of Fire Whiskey. “I thought you were joking when you said you could drink me under the table. Now I’m not so sure.”

Hermione laughed and sipped at her own glass of Fire Whiskey. A pleasant warmth filled her body, but not enough that Hermione felt like she was losing her edge. With a hand placed on the underside of the table, Hermione was slowly but surely draining her glasses with the Vanishing Spell. It had been a huge pain to learn to use it silently, she still wasn’t confident in a more complex execution, but for a little liquid, it did just fine. 

Judging by the slur in his speech, Hermione knew she was finally getting somewhere. Time to start breaking out the real questions after this one. Hermione was burning with the desire to know who that man Abraxas met with was. She didn’t plan on doing anything with the information, she just had to know. 

“You still have to answer the question, Abraxas.” Hermione said. They were playing a game that Ginny had introduced her to at the start of the school year. Every time you answered a question honestly, the other person had to drink. If you couldn’t or didn’t want to answer the question, you had to drink. So far Abraxas had been overwhelmingly honest about himself and Hermione caught herself laughing at his stories when she should have been focusing. 

“Okay okay. When I was five, I was a little idiot of course, but I thought it was really crummy that House Elves had to work for us for free.” He spoke quickly with the cadence of a happily inebriated man. “I wouldn’t do work for free, so why should they have to? I was too young to understand that not everyone thought the same way as me. Anyway, so, one day I gathered up a bunch of clothes and tried to give it over to them. That sets a House Elf free. Which is, exactly what I would have wanted in their position. They of course, were mortified that I even tried for force freedom on them. A few immediately dissipated to go tell my father. All the while I’m throwing clothes at the rest. And they’re dodging them, but also wanting to fold them at the same time. It was mess. My father still likes to tell that story at parties. Although he adds a completely rubbish part about me taking the clothes off my own back and chasing the House Elves naked.” Abraxas laughed. Hermione watched him, a dreamy smile on her face. 

“I told an embarrassing story, you have to drink Hermione.” Abraxas said with another laugh and leaned forward a little. His hair fell across his forehead. Hermione leaned forward to brush it out of the way and his lips parted in shock.

“I don’t think that counts as an embarrassing story. I think it’s really sweet.” Hermione said. They stared at each other a moment, his unfocused eyes dipping to Hermione’s ruby red lips. She felt the normally steady drum of her heart pitch up. 

“I’ll go get more drinks.” Abraxas said finally, tearing himself away from the moment. Relief and disappointment flooded Hermione’s system. She pinched her nose. What was she doing? He was handsome, yes. He was kind to her, yes. But in the end Abraxas Malfoy was just a pureblood supremacist. Like his son would be. And his son’s son. They weren’t forming a real friendship. It didn’t matter that he was kind to a House Elf exactly one time. 

_ Would it be so bad to change the future? _ Hermione wondered. She slapped her cheeks lightly, ending that train of thought before it could even leave the station. She had no right to play god. 

“Here you are.” Abraxas placed another short tumbler in front of Hermione. She took a real sip. The alcohol burned down her throat, but Hermione embraced the feeling. 

“Thank you.” she said, eyes watering. 

“I was surprised you were old enough to drink.” Abraxas admitted. 

“You too.” Hermione replied. It was still early in the year. While many Seventh years would turn eighteen over the course of the year, Hermione’s birthday had always been early. Being a year late also helped. 

“I turned eighteen back in August.” he explained. “How about you?”

“September 19th.”

“That was just a few weeks ago!” 

“It was nearly a month ago now.” Hermione laughed.

“You should have told me, we could have celebrated.” Abraxas said. In truth, Hermione had completely forgotten. In her mind, she had been nineteen for months now. Did the passing of another birthday make her twenty now? 

“We’re celebrating now.” Hermione replied. 

“You know, Riddle can’t drink yet.” Abraxas said after a moment. Hermione raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected him to bring up Riddle on his own. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s very young, then?” Hermione asked, knowing very well when his birthday way.

“His birthday is December 31st.”

“Are you going to get him something good for his birthday?” Hermione’s tone was light. 

“I suppose it could count as an early birthday gift.” Abraxas smirked.

“Why early? What is it?” When was early? Early December or next week? Hermione’s desire to interrogate Abraxas and enjoy his company made it hard to keep pushing the right questions. 

“It’s just a book, but I think he’ll like it. He’s hard to please, so it takes a lot of thought.” Abraxas craned his head around, making sure offending ears weren’t privy to the conversation. When satisfied, he took another sip of his firewhiskey. Hermione followed suit. 

“What sort of book?” she pressed, but Abraxas shook his head.

“The secret kind.” he teased.

“Sounds enticing. Give me a hint.” Hermione asked. 

“What do I get in return?” He asked back. Hermione stared at him a moment. Was he being serious? The curve of his mouth, suggested not. Hermione found herself staring at it for a moment too long. 

“I’m just kidding around. Here’s your hint, Ms. Wilkins. He’ll have plenty of  _ time _ to read it.” 

“That sounds far too interesting to remain a mystery. You should let me borrow it before you give it to him.” 

“Oh, no! Now you’re really trying to get me in trouble.” Abraxas laughed, but Hermione could tell he was serious. She remembered the limp he walked with a few days ago. She felt a sharp tug in her chest. 

“Why are you friends with him?” the question tumbled out of Hermione’s mouth before she could consider it further. It came off as whiny. Abraxas laughed.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” 

“Do you?” Hermione shot back. He kicked back the last of his drink, and Hermione watched his adam’s apple bob, slightly mesmerised. She had drank most of her last glass of firewhiskey, and despite her previous boasts, Hermione was most certainly a lightweight. The world had taken on a dreamlike quality to it. But it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“My father says that having strong connections is the most important thing in the world.” 

“That sounds very sad to me.” Hermione replied honestly. Abraxas didn’t reply, instead, he finished Hermione’s drink and held out his hand. Hermione took it.

#

Night had fallen at some point, and Hermione wasn’t quite sure what time it was. She wondered if it was past curfew already. Abraxas sang loudly on their walk back, swinging their connected hands, Hermione laughed at his silly antics. She even filled in the gaps of of some of his shoddy rhymes. It hadn’t occurred to Hermione until they were nearly to Hogwarts that Abraxas had taken Hermione’s hand at the Three Broomsticks and still held it. Heat banded across her cheeks. Despite everything, Hermione had a good time. Abraxas’ easy manner had a calming effect on Hermione’s naturally uptight state. 

“Shh” Hermione put her hand to her lips as they approached the front doors. Hogwarts was quiet, but that didn’t mean it was after curfew yet. Never hurt to be careful. Hermione pulled out her wand and cast the Muffliato Charm, just in case. 

“You’re so resourceful, Hermione.” Abraxas said as they tiptoed through the hallway. It definitely looked to be after curfew. Hermione was thankful that Filch wasn’t around in 1944, because they most certainly would have been caught already. 

“May I walk you back to your dorm?” Abraxas asked. Hermione bit her lip.

“I think it’d be safest if we split here. I don’t want you to get caught, because you’re a gentleman.” Abraxas opened his mouth, as if to protest. “Really, I’ll be fine.” 

“I had a lovely time, Abraxas.” Hermione whispered, even though it was unnecessary with the charm active. 

“Me too, Hermione.” He turned to face her. Her hand was still encompassed by his warm calloused one. His other hand reached up to stroke Hermione’s cheek. Hermione felt herself unconsciously lean into it. Shannon’s words echoed through her head. Did she want to kiss Abraxas? What about Ron? Was this fair to him, or anyone?   

“Abraxas…” she started.

“Hermione… I’m really glad I met you.” He said. She felt her eyes drifting closed as he leaned closer, his pine scent enveloping her.

“Malfoy!” A sharp voice cut through the air. Hermione and Abraxas jumped back, both on startled out of the moment. Hermione quickly cut the Muffliato spell, otherwise it would look her and Abraxas were just moving their mouths. 

_ Of course. _ Hermione though miserably as she saw what fate awaited her. Who else would break up this moment other than Riddle. And next to him, a very smug looking Shannon Weasley. 


	12. Chapter XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for the comments! Sorry I'm slow.

The word “irritable” barely scraped the surface of what Riddle was feeling. The note he had left Wilkins had be quite clear. Dungeons at Midnight. So why hadn’t she shown? Riddle was sure that a meticulous girl like Wilkins would not have missed the message. After all, she had laced her possessions with trap and obfuscation spells. There wasn’t even a possibility that she hadn’t combed through her bag when it had been returned. 

Perhaps she couldn’t get away from the dorms? Riddle dismissed that theory right away as well. He saw the girl scampering through the castle past curfew enough times to know that she felt above the rules.

That only left one possible reason why the girl had left Riddle waiting in the cold. She simply had not wanted to come. The mere thought of this girl’s disobedience set Riddle’s blood boiling. He knew that Wilkins feared him. Beneath the firmly set jaw of defiance, Riddle could see the shine of terror whenever he was around. It was her only redeemable quality. Still, she had left him waiting. And that was unacceptable. 

“I did a bang up job and she looked quite gorgeous. I could tell Abraxas thought so as well.” Weasley blathered. She had been going on and on for their entire rounds, but Riddle had gotten good at tuning the witch out. Weasley had an incessant need to fill any and all quiet with continuous prattle that set Riddle’s teeth on edge.

“Abraxas?” Riddle asked, trying to slide back into the conversation without making it obvious that he hadn’t been listening.

“Yeah, I saw him as I was leaving Hermione.” Weasley said confusing Riddle further. What had he missed?

“You and Wilkins passed by Malfoy in Hogsmeade?” He guessed. Weasley shot him an annoyed look. 

“You haven’t been listening at all, have you Tom?” Weasley accused. Oh, the fragile ego of women. Riddle pasted a guilty look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Shannon. My mind has been elsewhere all day. I didn’t sleep well.” he said with a sorry smile. Weasley’s eye brows drew together in sympathy.

“Oh, it’s alright Tom. I’m sorry about talking your ear off.”

“I like listening to you talk. It makes our rounds pleasant instead of tedious.” His cheek dimpled. Bright crimson overtook Weasleys face. Combined with the garish red lipstick, it made her whole head look like it was aflame.

“Er… well… thanks.” 

“Catch me up a bit?”

“Oh sure! Uh… so I was just saying that I was wondering how Hermione and Abraxas’ date went.” 

“Date?” A weird feeling clenched in the pit of Riddle’s stomach.

“Abraxas asked Hermione to get a butterbeer with him.” Weasley explained further. The words grated against his ears. 

“Ah.” He found himself at a loss for words. Malfoy was just doing his job assigned to him, Riddle reasoned. It was another means to control Wilkins, and it sounded like it was working splendidly.  

“I can’t wait to know how it went. They look rather good together, don’t they?”

“I haven’t seen them together.” Riddle replied coldly. Weasley glanced over at him, surprised by his tone. They walked in silence for a moment, nearly finished with their route. Rounding a corner, Riddle felt a sudden jerk of shock.

“Oh my!” Weasley’s scandalized voice sounded breathless next to him. Later on, Riddle would wonder how Wilkins and Malfoy had been so silent. He could see mouths moving, but heard no words, just a faint undertone of static. Another mystery about the blasted girl. 

In the moment, Riddle was far too focused on the situation to even notice. Abraxas hulked over the petite Wilkins. They looked ridiculous together. He was nearly twice her size. One giant hand engulfed half of her face, while the other ate up her whole hand. Despite the ludicrous visuals, Riddle could see the pink blushed dusting along Wilkins’ cheeks as she met Malfoy’s eyes. Ruby red lips slightly parted. 

Riddle knew that look of trepidatious desire well. He had seen it many times on the face of girls that he sought to catch and control. It meant Malfoy had already won. Riddle dragged his fingers through his hair. 

It was good that Malfoy had this amount of control over Wilkins, he reasoned. He had managed to secure her just how Riddle had deigned. Malfoy may have control of Wilkins, but Riddle was the one that pulled Malfoy’s strings. Maybe he would even let Malfoy have a bit of fun with her.

Malfoy’s head dipped downward, his eyes drifting shut.

“Malfoy!” Riddle called out sharply. The two students snapped apart. Wilkins’ eyes darted back and forth between him and Weasley, horror growing on her face. 

“Past curfew!” Weasley called out in a singsong voice. Although he didn’t move his eyes off the offending pair, he could tell she was revelling in this. Weasley hardly ever punished those out past curfew, instead taking delight in teasing the students incessently.  

Riddle’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. Wilkins had been  _ far _ to busy and important to break curfew for him, but seemed very comfortable in the arms of Malfoy at the stroke of Midnight. 

“Twenty points from Gryffindor and twenty points from Slytherin. You both should know better. ” Riddle said. “I trust that in the very least, you can make your way back to the Common Room by yourself, Malfoy. I will escort Wilkins back to her Common room. Shannon, if you don’t mind finishing our rounds.” His eyes zeroed in on the bushy haired girl, although her hair didn’t look bushy now. It was twisted back elegantly. Riddle found himself glancing up and down her body quickly. The grey dress and heels matured in. It wasn’t wholly displeasing. So, the bookworm could turn into a lady for Malfoy? His fingers itched towards his wand. 

“Tom, we’re nearly finished with our rounds. It’d make more sense to finish here. I’ll walk Hermione back and you can walk Abraxas back.” Shannon said. Riddle cursed the logic. He glanced over at her. Weasley was practically bouncing on her toes, excitement in her eyes. There was no point in trying to convince her. Riddle messed his hair once more. 

“Yes, alright.” Riddle said finally. Weasley snatched up Wilkins’ arm and dragged her away, her desperation to hear how the night went nearly palpable. 

“Goodnight, Hermione” Malfoy said with a small wave. His pale cheeks were set in an alcohol induced glow. His lips pulled into a large cheesy smile and Riddle felt his rage building. 

“Malfoy. Follow.” Riddle’s tone left no room for objections. Though, it never did. 

They walked to the dungeons in silence, Riddle’s indignance growing with every step. Malfoy lagged a step behind, familiar with the path. They were not returning to the Common Room, but instead winding deeper into the dungeons. Riddle waited impatiently as Malfoy moved in front of a damp wall three times. A door appeared without flourish. It simply had not been one moment, and was the next. 

Riddle allowed Malfoy to hold the door as he entered. The room was large and dark. Black metal lanterns hung from above, offering a small amount of light. Pillars lined the sides of the room and the ribbed vaults arched upwards. Although the ceiling was too dark to see, he was sure it ended in pointed arches.

“Kneel.” Riddle commanded. He loved the way his voice boomed and echoed throughout the chamber. It made him sound powerful and mature. How he should sound. 

Any drunken cheer that might have been there drained away from Malfoy’s face. He opened his mouth to plea, but it died on his lips. He knew that begging would earn him nothing. 

“Yes, Lord Voldemort.” 

Riddle pulled out his wand and tapped it against his leg. He circled around Malfoy, revelling in his power. Intelligent. Athletic. Handsome. Rich. Malfoy had it all. Still, here he was on his knees before Riddle.

“Crucio.” Riddle said plainly. Malfoy’s back arched in pain, his teeth gritting together. He did not scream out, which was both impressive and disappointing. And Riddle was in no mood to be impressed by Malfoy tonight. He pushed more power into the spell. A scream ripped out of Malfoy’s throat and Riddle cut the spell. Malfoy fell forward, panting. 

“You failed to inform me that you had pursued Wilkins.” 

“I was only following orders, my lord.” 

“Crucio.”

Malfoy curled forward, his nails cracking as he involuntarily dug into the hard stone. 

“Do not lie to me, Malfoy.” He had never told the oaf to take the girl on a date. 

“You told me to get close to her, my lord. I was only trying to please you.” Malfoy said through desperate breaths. 

“You think it pleases me to see you suctioning yourself to that hideous girl?” Riddle asked. He allowed no anger to enter his tone. Instead keeping it light and casual. 

“No, my lord. Not… like that… I just…. You just...” A cruel smile curled Riddles lips as he watched Malfoy stumble over his words. The hunched boy shook with the aftershocks of the torture curse. His pale hair hung limply over his forehead, starting to stink with sweat. Amused, Riddle wondered what Wilkins would think of her date now. All huddled on the floor and nearly pissing himself out of fear. 

“You just what?”

“I thought you wanted me to get close to her. It seemed like the right approach.” Malfoy said. Riddle couldn’t lie, the idea had merit. It was a logical step. The girl was responding so well to Malfoy and so poorly to Riddle. He thought back to how her eyes had begun to flutter shut as Malfoy leaned forward. 

“Crucio.” Blood trickled from the corner of Malfoy’s mouth where he bit his tongue in a failed attempt to stay silent.

“Please, my lord.” Malfoy gasped from the floor. The pathetic heap had finally resorted to begging. This had gone on long enough. Truthfully, Riddle couldn’t pinpoint exactly where Malfoy had failed him. Still, he couldn’t deny the anger that had lanced through him at the sight of that girl and his follower. 

“What would your father think? Galavanting with a Gryffindor.” Riddle asked, once again circling Malfoy. “One of indeterminate blood origin, on top of that.” Riddle hadn’t even considered Wilkins blood status before.

“I would do anything, if it served you, Lord Voldemort.” 

Malfoy always was the best at mollifying Riddle. Riddle straightened his mussed hair. 

“Abraxas, I admire your commitment to the cause. If you had told me your plan beforehand, you wouldn’t have forced me to do this.” Riddle said pleasantly. He placed a long fingered hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. Malfoy nodded but did not move.

“You may stand.” Malfoy stood slowly, his body shaking. He kept his grey eyes pinned to the floor.

“The effort you put forward does not go unnoticed. However, you will not make a move unless I decree it. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lord Voldemort.”

#

Shannon had managed go exactly the length of one hallway before she exploded.

“What was that?!”

“Uh…” Hermione didn’t have good answer for her overexcited friend. What  _ was _ that? Abraxas had leaned in and she had kind of….

“You were going to kiss him!” 

“I was not!” Hermione replied indignantly. 

“You can’t lie to me Hermione Wilkins! Didn’t I tell you to wait for the good ones?” Shannon chastised lightly. Hermione wanted dig a hole and jump into it. She was going to let him kiss her, wasn’t she? He had smelled so nice and her body had felt so warm from the fire whiskey. It seemed as if her common sense hadn’t followed Hermione to the past. Perhaps she had always been susceptible to a handsome face and kind words.

“I lost my mind for a moment.” Hermione slapped her reddening cheeks lightly. 

“I want to hear about the whole date! I’m just sorry Tom and interrupted you.” 

Hermione’s daydreams screeched to a halt as she remembered Riddle’s face. He had wanted to walk her to the Common Room. No doubt they’d never make it there. Instead her corpse would be found the next day somewhere along the way. 

Hermione was sure that Riddle wanted to confront her about his note.  _ I know what you’re looking for. Meet me in the dungeons at Midnight.  _

Although Hermione had been intrigued, ignoring it seemed the best option. She was quite sure that Riddle knew where to find the Room of Requirement. What she didn’t know, was what that meant for her. He might tell her where to find it, at a price. Or he could kill her just as easily. The pros never seemed to outweigh the cons when dealing with Tom Riddle. 

“I’ll tell you more tomorrow.” Hermione promised as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

“You better not forget even one juicy detail!” Shannon called as she bade Hermione good night. She did not envy that Shannon had to share a dorm with Riddle. 

Ugh Riddle. Hermione shoved her fingers into her hair, pulling the pins out savagely as she ascended the stairs to her dorm. She shuddered to think what would have happened if Shannon hadn’t been there. Hermione was no fool. It became more clear with every passing day that the Dark Lord had taken a keen interest in her and she couldn’t avoid him forever. It was beyond terrifying.

Still, Hermione clapped her cheeks lightly. If it had been Harry instead of her, he would move forward with no fear. They had defeated the Dark Lord as his peak. Surely, with her knowledge of the future, Hermione would not be outdone by a juvenile Dark Wizard. She hadn’t been called the brightest witch of her age for nothing. 


	13. Chapter XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. The comments mean a lot to me, so thanks all for commenting. Again, sorry I'm so slow on this. I'll try to be a bit better. :D

The rest of the weekend passed with blessed normalcy. Well, as normal as Hermione could feel after getting hurled backwards in time fifty years. Shannon had proceeded to spend all of Sunday asking for every detail from Hermione’s date. Details that Hermione didn’t even know existed. Had Hermione thought that Abraxas thought that she looked girlish and lovely? Or womanly and charming? Hermione had asked for more clarification and launched Shannon into an enthusiastic explanation that had left Hermione’s head spinning. Harfang listened on with vague sympathy.

“Malfoy’s too stupid to have any thoughts past ‘catch quaffle’. Hermione, I thought you were smarter than to go out with that git. Shan, you’re just living up to my expectations.” He sent a Shannon a withering look. She scowled and tossed her quill at him causing ink to splatter everywhere. 

Their teasing and easy friendship brought a swell of contentment to Hermione’s heart. She wondered if they ended up married. Hermione strained her brain to remember the names of Weasley ancestry to no avail. 

Sunday rolled into Monday with lazy ease. The trio split after breakfast, Harfang and Hermione heading down into the icy dungeons for Potions. Hermione wasn’t sure where Shannon went during their Potions classes. She, of course, found it entirely irresponsible for the Head Girl not to take N.E.W.T. level Potions. It was easily one of the most useful subjects post Hogwarts. Knowing how to brew a good potion or even just the right ingredients could mean life or death at some point. And had for Hermione as early as her first year at Hogwarts. 

“She has an art elective.” Harfang explained as they paused to watch Shannon scamper off. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Art?” Hermione asked. She knew that Hogwarts offered art classes, but it had never interested her. Hermione wasn’t an artist. She wasn’t even a doodler. Her notes margins were entirely devoid of spirling lines. Instead they were either barren or cramped with more notes based on her notes. 

“She’s actually really skilled.” Harfang said, eyes still lingering down the hallway Shannon turned down. “But she doesn’t think so. Doesn’t like to tell people about it.”

“I hope I can see it some time.” 

“I always try to twist her arm a bit to let me see her stuff. It’s really wonderful. I tell her so, but she just shakes me off.” Harfang said wistfully. Hermione watched him for a moment. 

“Shannon’s very lucky to have you as a friend.” Hermione said finally. His eyes snapped back to her, ears turning bright crimson. 

“Everyone’s lucky to have me as a friend! Come on, let’s get to class.” Harfang said, rubbing the back of his neck and scooting off before Hermione could push the conversation. 

Hermione’s eyes roved around the Potions room as her and Harfang entered and settled down at an open desk. Abraxas was already there; seated in front next to Riddle. Disappointment sunk through her chest when he didn’t turn to say hello. She had been practicing her nonchalant greeting as she got ready in the morning. 

“And a very good morning to you, my favorite Potions class!” Slughorn was overly chipper as he practically pranced to the front of the room. Small glass vials chimed against each other as he carelessly carried a wooden box. Hermione craned to peer in, curiosity piqued. 

“First things, first please pass up your homework. Now. Today is a very special class. You may be wondering why your homework has been focused on researching ingredients, how their effects change when combined with other ingredients, so on and so forth.” Hermione actually hadn’t been wondering. She had written the exact same paper fifty years in the future. He set the box down with a groan and wiped his brow. 

“Right. So today, we’re going to be putting it all into practice.” Slughorn said, his voice positively laced with excitement. Hermione, on the other hand, felt her stomach hit the floor. 

“As children, you don’t know this yet, but the most important skills to have in the field are quick thinking and quick potions work. Why three years ago now, or has it been four… no no, definitely three. Three years ago, I was asked by Piddie Rokkle, you know the famous Dragon Researcher that eventually became the head of the Beast Division at the Ministry of Magic? We met at a gala and I must have left quite an impression because she asked me to help her track down a Runespoor that was loose in a forest outside of London….” As Slughorn prattled on and on Hermione had a growing feeling of dread. She had come to expect a level of comfortable redundancy from Slughorn’s class. But this felt different. 

“...And I was able to save her limb because of my quick potion making skills! After that, I always carried a bezoar with me!” Slughorn ended his story with a laugh. Hermione had zoned out and missed the story, but glancing around the room, it seemed like it hadn’t been particularly enthralling to anyone. 

“As that situation tested me, today we’re going to test your critical skills!” Slughorn pulled a small corked vial out of the box. “Teams of two will be given a one of these today. Each vial contains a different type of poison or venom. None are deadly, I promise you.” He added after people started shifting in their seats uncomfortably.

“Based on your physical symptoms and descriptions your partner will need to diagnose you, figure out the poison, brew, and administer the antidote. Next class, you both will switch roles.” Hermione couldn’t help but let her mouth drop open. She wanted to be shocked, but Snape had done some rather odd things in his potions classes as well. 

Although it wouldn’t surprise Hermione if this particular lesson wasn’t in her future version of the class because Headmistress McGonagall had put her foot down about intentionally poisoning students. 

“And I expect a specific antidote! None of these will be curable by the Antidote to Common Poisons, so don’t be lazy! Everyone pair up and line up to get your vials.”

Chatter broke out across the class, people in disbelief that this was the start of their week. Hermione turned to Harfang, who stared back with eyes as round as saucers.

“This old goat is really going to poison us?” He whispered harshly. Hermione pressed her lips together, as if the disparaging tone had annoyed her. Truthfully she was holding back laughter.

“I think it’ rather exciting.” She admitted. An added time pressure to brewing a potion added a level of controlled excitement that Hermione craved. Her mind was already rolling through potential ingredient combinations that could resolve a variety of symptoms. It was such an opportunity to look good in front of a teacher. 

“If you’re looking forward to it so much, I’ll play victim today. I feel like my life is in capable hands.” Harfang said. Together they got in line, discussing which symptoms they really didn't want to experience.

“I’ll take itchy hands or something, just don't want any extra hair or boils on my face.” Harfang said making Hermione chuckle. 

“Afraid to improve your looks, Longbottom?” a voice from behind them said. Hermione’s heart fluttered delicately in her chest. 

“Har har, Malfoy. Maybe you’ll get one that’ll enlarge your hands. So you can actually catch the quaffle.” Neither boy’s remarks held any bite. Instead, it felt like banter between friends. Things had been really different in her time. Harry and Draco’s snips to each other had always been cutting and cruel rather than flippant. 

Abraxas’ eyes fell onto Hermione and she felt herself unconsciously press her hand against her chest, as if that could slow her heartbeat. She intentionally kept her eyes away from Riddle, although he stood just next to Abraxas. She just couldn’t deal with the budding Dark Lord today. 

“Good morning, Hermione.” Abraxas’ voice was low and stiff. Immediately Hermione wondered if he had regretted their date. He must have. He was, afterall, a rich handsome wizard. He had a future of endless possibilities. Well, only one future really, if Hermione would stop messing up the timeline and get back home. 

“Good morning, Abraxas.” Hermione felt herself matching the softness of his voice. Her head dipped as she remembered their almost kiss. It was almost embarrassing to see him again after their night of drunken closeness. She hated to admit how much she enjoyed it. 

Harfang nudged her and she stepped forward with him to pick up their “poison of choice”. With a hefty sigh, Harfang dipped his hand into the box and clinked around for a moment before pulling out a vial. 

“Cheers.” Harfang said, gesturing with it. 

“Wait a moment, Mr. Longbottom. Are you partnered with Ms. Wilkins?” Slughorn asked as the two made their retreat. 

“Yessir.” 

“No no… that won’t do. I’m sorry, Mr. Longbottom but I must intervene. This is a perfect opportunity to test the limits of my top two students.” Slughorn said, his lips pulling into a smile. The hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck rose at his words. “Mr. Longbottom, you partner with Mr. Malfoy. And Ms. Wilkins will be with Mr. Riddle.” 

Hermione nearly let out an audible groan. Glancing at Harfang, she saw a similar defeated expression on his face. He shrugged helplessly at her.

“Are you sure, sir?” Abraxas asked, glancing over at Riddle. “I’d really like this opportunity to learn from Tom.” 

“Come now, you have all the time in the world to learn from him, my boy! You can pick his brain back in the Common Room. I’ve been dying to see what my best two students come up with. In fact...” Slughorn’s head was down as he rummaged through the box of vials, unable to see the uneasy expression that spread across his students’ faces. Hermione dared a peek at Riddle now. Even he looked slightly tense at the situation. 

“There we are.” Slughhorn said, appearing with a small vial wedged in his meaty hand. “I made two special for my crème de la crème. One for today, one for next Monday. I can’t wait to see how you two handle them. I mustn't say more or I might give out a clue.” Hermione took the glass container in a daze. 

“Be careful, Hermione.” Harfang whispered, dark brows pulled together as he watched Riddle. She glanced over at Abraxas who smiled tightly at her, but avoided her eyes. 

“Goodness, they act like I’m going to poison you myself.” Riddle said, his long legs guiding him back to his seat. Hermione followed nervously rolling over scenarios in her head. 

Fact. Riddle felt something was amiss with Hermione.

Fact. He thought that whatever was amiss as potentially a threat to him. 

Fact. He was cunning. 

Fact. He was ruthless. 

So where did that leave Hermione? Was Riddle going to intentionally fail at creating an antidote? Or maybe he’d create something that would clash with whatever poison she drank, amplifying the symptoms and kill her? There was quite a few ways this could go sideways for Hermione. However, that meant the same the other way, she realized. 

His unusual uneasy look early suddenly made sense. It wasn’t Abraxas Malfoy that Tom Riddle was putting himself in a vulnerable position in front of. Loyal follower. It was Hermione Wilkins. Clever, resourceful, and possibly enemy. That gave her some power or control or something, right? Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears. She hated to admit it, but if he wanted her dead, there wasn’t much she could do about it anyway. 

“You may begin at any time!” Slughorn called from the front. 

“Yes, I’ll be doing that to myself, won’t I?” She said, meeting his gaze. Riddle’s charcoal eye sparkled with malicious glee. “But then, you’ll have to do it too, won’t you?” She watched him closely. Although is expression was carefully control, the sparkle in his eye died with her words. 

“Shall we get started?” Hermione asked. With a sweep of bravado she uncorked the vial and swigged it down in one go.

#

Riddle couldn’t believe the girl drank the potion so quickly. And all of it. His mind was already ticking away, thinking of ways to avoid drinking the vial all together the following week. Vanishing it before it reached his mouth and faking the symptoms. Or maybe trying to transmute it to water on the sly. Wilkins had done no such thing, instead she jumped in feet first. 

“No symptoms yet.” the girl declared. 

“Really? I could swear it made your hair even larger.” he said, readying his cauldron. Long fingers swept over ingredients, planning out his course for different potential symptoms. 

“Hah.” Wilkins said, crossing her arms. Her hair really did look extra poofy today. Perhaps it was because she was angry. Similar to the mangy dogs that would raise their hackles when Riddle came near them. He touched his own hair gently. 

Glancing around the room, symptoms were starting to crop up. One student had turned a bright neon purple. That would have been an easy fix. 

“Any symptoms yet, Wilkins.” he asked glancing her way. She looked to be concentrating. Her eyes slightly unfocused. 

“I believe that I am getting dizzy.” Wilkins breathed. Dizziness could be any number of things from the Death Draught all the way down to a Common Cold Potion. 

“I’m going to need more than that.” Riddle nudged, watching her closely. Wilkins eyelids drooped, as if she was struggling to stay awake. She pulled at the knot in her tie.

“I’m also growing hotter and sleepy.” She followed up. “Sleepy, not tired.” she clarified. Riddle wanted to ask the difference, but instead focused on the task at hand. This sounded like the start of Bloodroot poisoning. The cure for which would take him a while to brew and was quite difficult. It would take a lot of time. Possibly the entirety of his time slot. If Slughorn was trying to test him, it made even more sense that he would need to diagnose fast and act on it.  If Wilkins continued to become more and more physically disoriented, Riddle would know he was on the right track. He started boiling the salamander tongues. They would take the longest to prepare. 

“Hey… are you listening to me?” 

Riddle nearly jumped, shocked by the sudden contact. Wilkins stared up at him with oddly glossy eyes, cheeks flushed with heat. 

“I’m listening.” He replied tersely. It was disconcerting to see her so out of sorts. The woman was annoyingly prim. Thoughts of manipulation ran through his head. Having her in a vulnerable state was too large of an opportunity to pass up.  

“I think… oh it’s so hot…” Wilkins shucked her robes off, letting them pool on the floor at her feet. Riddle glanced down her body before he gave a quick look around the room, but everyone was dealing with their own problems. Some much more rowdy than his own. She grabbed his arm again, the heat of her skin burning through Riddle’s sleeve. Although impossible, Riddle still wondered if her skin was hot enough to burn him. 

“I think that this might be… Bloodroot Poisoning....” Wilkins breathed. Her face was gravely serious and Riddle could feel a laugh bubbling in his chest. It took her ages to figure it out. Slughorn really thought this puffball was a ‘top mind’?

“Yes, lucky for you, I already figured that out.” He replied. She shot him an impatient glare. Riddle watched a sweat trickle down her neck and disappear into the collar of her white blouse. Riddle amused himself with the quick thought of just letting her die. Slugworm said that none of the Potions were deadly, but Riddle knew exactly how to remedy that. Making it look like an accident was his only obstacle. He also knew that Slugworm would back him up with whatever excuse Riddle came up with. There was no downside for Riddle to nudge her in the direction of death. 

“Then what are you waiting for? Do you need me to give you directions with the potion crafting?” the girl breathed. Her words were sharp, but came out in gasps that smelled vaguely of coffee. Her hand grasped his ropes tightly, as if she couldn’t keep herself upright without aid. She probably couldn’t. There was no other reason for this Hermione Wilkins to deign to touch Tom Riddle. The young witch had made it very clear that touching him was positively revolting. That was fine, as she was revolting to him as well. Still, he made no move to support her or remove her. Wilkins other hand crept up to her collar, moving to ease open the top button.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He suggested quickly. The sooner she let him get back to work, the sooner he could complete the antidote and have this annoying troll out of his hair.  

“Yes, of course.” Wilkins said. Riddle grasped her elbows to guide her to an empty wooden chair. She didn’t object, focused entirely on keeping her head upright. It was truly odd to see the girl in such a vulnerable state. Especially after their hardened duel. And the way she had fought against him when he tried to... intimidate her in the empty classroom not too far from where they were now. 

“Why didn’t you respond to my summoning?” Riddle whispered suddenly in her ear as he set her down gently. He could feel her own warm breath on his neck. It sent a chill down his spine. He hadn’t planned on asking the question, instead it rolled down his tongue of it’s own accord. 

“Don’t you have a potion to brew?” The girl struggled to answer. He knelt in front of her and examined her state. Wilkins eyes were heavy, her head lolling slightly from side to side. And even though he wasn’t Abraxas Malfoy, Wilkins willingfully gripped the tops of his shoulders to keep from toppling over. 

“Answer the question.”

“Why should I?” 

“Because I’m telling you to.” 

“Riddle, you’re going to run out of time.”

“Then hurry and answer.” He said smoothly. Her mouth pressed together for a moment before she let out a sigh. It seemed to be taking her more and more effort to speak. 

“Did you really think I would go? After you assaulted me?”

“That’s another good question. What were you doing in the dungeon following me and my friends? I have every right to defend myself.” He declared, watching her face closely.

“You’re ridiculous. Truly and completely ridiculous, Riddle.” 

“I think we can help each other out, Wilkins. I read your map, you know. I know what you’re looking for.” He tried to meet her honey eyes, but it was growing more difficult as she struggled to keep her head and body upright. Her slender fingers dug into his shoulders.

“And what do you get out of it?” She finally asked. 

“Maybe I just want a chance to redeem myself in your eyes, Hermione.” She focused her stare on him as best as she could. Her given name tasted odd on his tongue. Still, he snatched the opportunity to say it outloud to her. She didn’t cringe. Nor did her face morph into an expression of outrage. Instead she sighed and blinked slowly. 

“I’ve never heard a less believable story.” Her head fell forward, knocking her forehead against his own. The sudden press of peach scent took him by surprise. Her hair fell forward, tickling his cheeks. It was disgusting the way she touched him so liberally. 

“Now who’s assaulting who?” He joked lightly, their noses nearly touching. She didn’t laugh. “No matter what I want, you’ll get what you want, which is to find the room. Seems like a pretty fair deal.”

“Fine.” Hermione said after a long pause. There it was. It was a small consent. In fact, it was a poor deal for Riddle He was giving Wilkins something she desperately wanted and he wasn’t going to receive much of anything in return. But it was the first chink in Wilkins’ armor. A place for him to worm his way in and wiggle out enough room to understand how best to control her. Learn her secrets. Learn Dumbledore’s secrets. 

“But.” She continued, lifting her head slowly to meet his eyes. Anger flared through Riddle and her need to add stipulations. “I won’t be alone with you. Someone else…” 

She wanted Malfoy. It was clear as day to Riddle. An ugly feeling pulled his mouth into a frown.

“It’s a deal, Hermione.” 


End file.
